


Before We Both Lose

by casv98



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Angst, Broken Heart, Emotions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Ghiralink - Freeform, M/M, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, brokenhearted, ghirahim - Freeform, old castles, undiscovered places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:39:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casv98/pseuds/casv98
Summary: Set after the game's ending. Link lives at the surface. Ghirahim does too. They don't know that the other does. Follow as their worlds, and lives, intertwine.(Work previously called "The New is Our Old" )





	1. Barely There

_The unloving heart weeps for someone to love._

“The unloving heart weeps for someone to love.” Ghirahim scoffed and tucked the book back into the shelf. “Nonsense.” He turned briskly on his heel and three steps into his walk he teleported away. _Like I could love again._ In the space between realms he moved a there-not-there hand to massage his temples. He really needed to cool his temper.

In a different part of the land, Link bit at a quill in thought. He’d lived four months down on the surface. Alone. Zelda wanted to stay with him but in the end her godly part, which is rather all her parts, saw the need to rectify the islands above, to ‘restore order’.  Whatever that means. Link no longer felt the need to deal with other people, he imagined the majority, if not all, would eventually forget him. Besides, they really needed to learn how to manage life themselves and not by sending him on fetch quests or cleaning duty.

He sighed. This report was never going to get written. Link felt his temple itch and cringed as he accidentally graced his hair as he scratched it. He had neglected to wash it for too long. He grabbed the edge of the makeshift desk. Who knew, maybe a fresh head would help him get a fresh mind? Before he rose from his pushed back stool he grabbed a stretched arm behind his head, then repeating the motion on the other side. A relaxed smile spread on his face as his joints cracked. Walking the space between his desk and the unnecessarily tall closets, he grabbed a clean set of clothes and a towel from the bottom shelves and headed out.

The quill was left on the yellow pergament with merely a stiff greeting, long since dried,  jotted on it.

As the rush of air that accompanied any materialization greeted him Ghirahim sighed deeply. He stood in the crown of a big tree, a clear mark he still had recollections of. Gracefully he dropped from it, the landing so smooth it barely made a sound. There was stone pavement under his feet, or well, what used to be stone pavement. It was still there but moss and grass now covered almost all of it.

Ghirahim took a moment to look around. So much had changed in what time he'd been busy with his Mast... Ahem. His former leader's assignment. The proud towering facades were crumbling, plants finding nature-made pots in the cracks. The courtyard serving as an open air bathing area had been mostly overtaken by bushery, trees of various heights and tiny flowers, some of which he could not recall seeing before. The tree he had landed in was mostly the same, although maybe a smidge thicker and somehow wiser looking. He didn’t detect any hostile plants of the deku baba sort, only docile sun-drinking greenery.

Ghirahim held his head high as he took the place in, white bangs and red mantle swaying in the gentle breezes. He failed, however, to fully conceal the sombre slump in his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Link was in a great mood. On the way to the springs hidden deep within the old dilapidated castle Link had made his residence, he checked for newly collapsed ceilings and hallways. It wasn’t uncommon that he got uncalled pieces of rocks falling on his shoulders. But it seemed for once that the building was just like during yesterday’s rounds. Ducking under a vertical grate and crawling through a narrow tunnel was nothing Link wasn’t more than used to, pushing his sling bag in front of him all the while. Coming out as dirty as he’d come in, the many times he’d swept the smooth rocks with his clothes leaving it relatively clean. Link nevertheless took a moment to sort his clothes out, brushing himself free of debris and dust. Satisfied, he flung his bag over his shoulder again and continued on, a chipper hum dancing along his lips. The area seemed to sing along with him.

In the old courtyard, Ghirahim let his hand stroke the low plants littered along the pathways in the modestly secluded area, leading the way to one set of deep water to another. He mused over how interesting it was that it was still quite traversable. Almost if someone had taken it upon themselves to render it usable.

He bent down and felt the water of a few pools. The spells must still be working. A grin spread of his face despite himself. Perfect. Ghirahim snapped his fingers, removing his attire, and began descending into a bubbling pool with steam thickly rising from it. He wasn’t one to accumulate dirt, but there was really no denying the relaxation from feeling something holding your weight so easily and without fail. Surrounding you and holding you, ever present for as long you wished to stay. The slowly penetrating heat reaching into him was quite “heart warming”. Careful to let his hair stay above the surface, he let his senses relax and his eyes fall shut.

Link continued his little pilgrimage, and after just a few minutes of trekking he pushed at the final set of doors before the last hurdle of a path leading down to the open-air water basins. It was squiggly and uneven, a mixture of old stairs, never-ending pits and overgrown grassy sections. But Link navigated through the trickiness of it with ease at this point, and soon arrived at the last turn around a thick trunk, the old tree having a remarkable presence. He left his bag by it and grabbed a section of the tree's bark and used it to pivot around. With the extra speed Link whooped as he ran the rest of the few meters, sprung into the air and landed with a sploosh in the shimmering water, clothes on and everything. It startled a group of small colourful birds into flight.

Ghirahim hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. He entered a dream hearing some faint sounds of repeated thuds, some subconscious giggling, slowly growing in volume, a sudden expectant stillness, and then a wild splash. The last thing he saw of reality were tiny birds growing tinier as they flew away in the sky. Eyes closed now... Ghirahim’s mind crafted _a face full of youth, running around, teleporting away from grabbing hands, laughing until they couldn’t breathe right. Ghirahim felt the joy contagious until--_

Link re-emerged after a moment and gulped in the humid but refreshing air, feeling it clean out the dust in his lungs. Smiling to himself, eyes closed and face turned to the sky Link let himself feel the sun’s warmth shining through the sparse tree-made canopy as he floated around. After starting to feel the added weight of his submerged clothes though, Link finally swam to the edge. He tugged at his sleeves and peeled off his tunic followed by the rest of the fabrics. It wasn’t much to lay out to dry, he’d left his adventure pouch and bag for a reason.

But oh how he really enjoyed bathing here. He didn’t have to worry about being appropriate or inappropriate or whatever. He would go to the Ancient Cistern, which was also very nice with the soft lily pads and such, but somehow it didn’t feel right. He would always be reminded of someone he had... run into. And anyway, really, it was freeing letting his body see the light, open-air as it was here. Link went over to his bag, leaving wet prints on the ground, grains of sand sticking to his wet skin, and bent over to grab the serums and creams he found effective on dirt and grime.

_\--until his dream took a quick turn. In the new version, the child’s mirth was suffocated. Its flame snuffed out. He turned over a nonexistent shoulder and breathlessly saw his Master gloriously being resurrected, the spirit maiden’s golden shine turned into the sinister purple glowing around him. A cursed halo. He felt the happiness of a successful mission, of a pleased Master. His feet left the ground and he choked at the pressure building behind his already crushed core. Why was it crushed? The delirious feeling of the sword being pulled from his insides, the jagged hilt coming first, left him unable to do anything but laugh. Exhausted from the ordeal he barely noticed as he dispersed and melded within the edges of the sword, of himself, as they once more become one. He couldn’t see what proceeded, but registered dull thuds when Master clashed against solid ground, slashed across skin, met with another set of steel._

_When the intense buzzing of blue lightning was stored in him he wanted to scream._

Standing next to a different pool, Link shivered at a sudden hair-raising breeze whirling around his wet body. Closing his arms around himself in an attempt to thwart it he halted, reminded of his first really frightening encounter in his journey to save his friend. He shuddered again at the memory as a cool droplet slid down his back. The demon had with only his presence frozen Link in his tracks, toyed with him, taunted him. He had threatened him every time he had opened his mouth.

Yet, he had spared Link. Time and time again. The thought confused him everytime, leaving him warm and fuzzy, but also so incredibly sad.

Link pulled himself out of it, the reflecting pane of the water calling him back. He pushed away the memory of disintegrating black metal and dunked his head under the surface of water. He scrubbed at his scalp harshly, letting his nails scratch away. After he pulled up he took to the process of getting the tousled hair fresh, keeping in mind why he had come here at all today.

_The fight was long with whomever Master was facing. Ghirahim reluctantly acknowledged that his focus was waning, his edges growing dull and fragile. He tried to inform Master. He tried to inform him..._

_He knew he would shatter long before it happened_.

Ghirahim shuddered awake despite the boiling water around him. Before he realized where he was, he uttered a panicked, “Master”. But a moment passed and eventually the haze cleared. Ghirahim once more relaxed into the heat and violent loud bubbling of the boiling basin he had chosen. He did not remember the full extent of what he dreamt, but got the gist of it.

As Ghirahim wiped a wet hand across his face and, screw it, he threaded it through his pristine hair too, he thought that he really could stand to be spared the reminder of his largest failure.

Finished with rinsing a final time, Link rose from his knees and moved to one of the basins more hidden in the foliage. A faintly steaming one for a core-warming soak. He never figured out how the place worked, having multiple basins with wildly different temperatures. Where did the water come from? Where and how was it cooled and heated? So many questions, but despite his disposition to explore he wasn't about to jeopardize this paradise.

Having stepped into the warm water, Link wriggled his toes and kicked his legs, feeling the water surge around him. He sat himself comfortably on a submerged ledge, leaving only the top of his shoulders exposed. He had time. He could stay for a bit longer, he thought and leaned back, closing his eyes with a content sigh.

Just a few pools away, Ghirahim pondered as he studied the way the water seemingly distorted the shape of his legs. He had half a mind to materialize that damn book and check it again, but decided not to. The words would not suddenly be different. The remedy would not change. The one that even remotely fit the profile would surely scurry off to the Goddess, whom he presumed ruled now. He would have to find another way to… to do what needed to be done. Ghirahim raised a hand to press at his chest. He wasn’t in his sword form but the crystal that was his core was still just within, cracked and bruised and steadily falling apart.

He would have to set some form of plan into motion, and that soon.

Link dazedly blinked to awareness and stared at the sky. The clouds were scarce today; if he squinted, he might be able to make out the form of firm ground suspended in the sky. The sun hung lower now, not low enough for dusk but low enough to know he had overstayed. Dusk was quick to pass into night at the surface. He’d learned that the hard way.

Link quietly whined, but pushed his hands down on the submerged ledge he was perched on and started to get up. The skin on his hands had pruned from the water and as more air connected with his body, he could feel each hair on his skin rise, turning smooth skin prickly. The sun still warmed but it didn't stop him from shivering as the air dried him. Leaves on low plants caressed parts of his legs, calves and wrists along the path back to the huge tree. He made quick work of getting dressed in his now dry clothes, picked up his small bag and left the way he came.

After stretching his stay as long as he could, Ghirahim let himself teleport to the edge of the loud basin and a metallic sigh sounded as clothes materialized on him. He did indeed feel much more calm, despite the intruding dream.

He arranged his hair as best he could and after checking his appearance in the reflection of a nearby still pane of water, Ghirahim turned - only to step in a puddle. He recoiled and immediately felt his mood sour. The muddy water had splashed all the way up to his knee. He glared at puddle and noticed it belonged to a trail. He huffed as he followed the splashes reaching another cozy, secluded, but much cooler basin than the one he had chosen for himself.

The irritating part was that it was empty.

Ghirahim felt his upper lip curl and his eye twitch. He turned on his heel and followed the trail back and let it lead him in the other direction, but soon it ebbed into nothing and by the time he reached the big tree again there was not another clue to be found. He clenched his fists and prepared to let the place feel his anger. Two swords appeared in his fists in a reverberating crisp metallic ringing that accompanied Ghirahim’s powers. Swiftly he moved to cut the nearest object, he could envision the destruction which was about to be let loose on this wretched, insufferable--!

Just before the edge of the first blade grazed the rough bark of the old tree he’d landed in, Ghirahim halted his wide swing, his chest expanding and collapsing shallowly. The sun’s rays glinted off the sharp edge as a stray leaf moved by the breeze cut itself in half on the blade. Ghirahim frowned as he looked away and softened his shoulders. All that work to get himself to relax and what did he do?

Swords lowered, but still in hand, Ghirahim made his exit. The snap and the crisp metallic clatter echoed a terribly hollow tune amongst the soft flora and languid waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited for this new WIP! I want it to have a beautiful tone, but of course that might change. I look forward to sharing more of this with you! 
> 
> I appreciate all your feedback, kudos, comments. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Edit: I split the pov's into separate chapters, but now I've decided to just stick with what I wanted to go with in the first place. Excuse the mayhem haha
> 
> Ediit: I've also added some parts in it, the chapter is worth a re-read. Should flow more nicely now.


	2. Silence Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff... happens? Read and you'll find out what ;)

The morning rays of a mellow sun shone through the leaves and vines crawling over the many rustic windows, born through passage of time in the ceilings and walls. They formed into billowing curtains of light brightening the room. Once a gentle beam prodded at the thin skin of Link’s eyelid the belonging nose scrunched up, affronted by the audacity of the event called ‘dawn’. He rolled over on the heap he called a bed, creating a haven of shadow for his eyes, prolonging his rest, but only procrastinating the inevitable start of his day.

Finally mustering the tenacity to get up, Link flung away the worn but fluffy blanket he’d brought with him from Skyloft. He reached up with his arms, stretching his taunt stomach and chest. As he let his arms fall to his sides he leaned forward where he now had stood up, grabbed the back of his knees and groaned at the feeling of his shoulder blades loosening after a nights rest, shifting side to side as his hair swayed around his face. He really should have stretched some more before he went to bed yesterday.

Continuing his morning routine, Link stretched each set of triceps as he trudged over to where he kept his food. He smacked his lips at the thought of a honey-covered piece of bread, sprinkled with some juicy berries and fruits and he was in the middle of drooling about it when he opened his makeshift pantry to find -- nothing.

His chin fell towards his chest in resigned exasperation. Guess he was so taken with pondering and relaxing yesterday he forgot to check his inventory. He straightened up. Well, nothing to be upset about now. Might as well get dressed and collect some food. He was in a mood for cooking anyway, he thought as he got ready and left.

He walked in his casual clothes from before he won the wing ceremony, from before Zelda was taken from them. It seemed like ages ago. After Demise had been sealed and Link had decided to stay by himself, Zelda had insisted against him leaving the green garb up in Skyloft.

“It is a symbol of the Hero, and be he alive the Hero should possess it,” Zelda had composedly gritted out.

They’d held that pointless arguing for a while. He calls her Zelda, but really, he doesn’t know how much of her is actually left. In the end, he did bring the clothes with him, but hadn’t worn the tunic or the hat at all since. The pants he used frequently. Mainly because the others he’d brought had a weird tendency to fray as soon as he mended them. Should a crisis arise once more then of course he’d wear it, it was his knight uniform after all, but the green was too much to just simply  _ wear _ . It held too many memories.

Far away, but not all too far, Ghirahim stumbled out of the realm between realms as he returned to where he went to rest. The beams and counters of his quarters silently offered their unyielding support as Ghirahim made his way to the restroom. He grabbed the sides of the old sink as he felt nausea build and finally go past his control. He emptied his liquor-filled stomach until he was only spitting bile. A shaking hand tucked stray strands behind his pointed ear, the blue diamond swaying this way and that, gleaming as it caught some of the rays of morning. Another day spent searching and searching for a way to  _ fix  _ him, to no avail. Only leading him to another of countless nights spent numbing himself.

Ghirahim stared at the reflexion looking back at him.  Involuntary tears had streaked down his cheeks, his brow was drawn in a cramping frown and his hair was a mess. The drunken spell was hardly enough to quell the insistent urge to claw at his chest, but it did help him hone his focus. If only for a moment.

“Pathetic.” Ghirahim swore to himself that he wouldn’t sink this low again. He straightened his appearance, fixed the crease in his cloak. He wanted to do good by his promise immediately. He snapped his fingers above his head and reappeared in the woods he’d just searched. According to the book, for him, this was the place to be searching at.

“Who… are you?” Link cautiously stayed in his defensive stance as he regarded the figure in front of him. He’d started his quest for fresh water and food as normal. Walked the same track snaking through the trees towards a mountain hill where he’d found a place just overflowing with mushrooms and bee nests right next to a clear stream.

The masked figure shifted their eyes to Link. “Heed me, Hero of the Skies. You know not your future. Where rivers flow to and what mountains reach for, as past meets future a path shall open.”

The man, or was it a woman? Link’d had a difficult time figuring that out with Impa. This man was dressed similarly to her, bearing the big red eye symbol of the sheikah, although instead of the cloak she’d donned he had a long white piece of cloth wrapped around his head, neck, and lower part of his face, leaving only his scowling red eyes visible through his bangs.

Link had no clue what the sheikah, he must be a sheikah, was referring to but before he could question him the cloaked individual made a quick throw and, concealed in a bright blast, disappeared. Link lowered the arm he’d instinctively used to shield his eyes and anxiously shifted on his feet as he stood in sudden solitude with those puzzling words.

_ Where rivers flow, what mountains reach for… path shall open...  _ A riddle? 

The eloquent language of the man echoed in his mind and resonated with his deep memories from monologues a long gone foe had talked at him with. He rushed over to where the man had stood, looking for clues or anything at all. Link thought the days of quests and adventures were over. Guess he was wrong.

~~~~

What a strange morning. Link had pondered over that riddle or clue or whatever that sheikah had talked about but hadn’t figured it out. He counted his findings instead. A heap of apples, two bottles of water, one honeycomb... (He’d gotten a few stings. Worth it.) ...a bunch of mushrooms and spores… Yes, it seemed he got enough for a while. Link pulled his string bag closed and backtracked the way home. He looked to the sky. It should be sometime after high noon.

Suddenly, he caught a pained yelp. Link stood silent and still as he waited for it again.

“...!”

There. He turned swiftly, stuffing a fruit in his pocket, and leapt into a dash. Someone was hurt. He knew he should've taken care of those two red bokoblins from a few days ago, but he’d assumed he was the only one in danger of them. After all, he wasn’t in a part of the woods where the kikwis lived, and he hadn’t seen any other humans but himself (and no white clad feet following him either, no matter how many times he felt like he was being mockingly followed).

Link ducked under a heavy trunk and jumped down a ledge, his heavy bag of loot swinging and repeatedly hitting his hip. He would surely wake up to a sting of bruises tomorrow.

He skidded to a stop but arrived unnoticed by both the huge group of bokoblins and their target. How had they multiplied so fast? Wasting no time Link snuck up behind the group, praying that the guy wouldn’t yell for him when they almost locked eyes.

Lacking in options, with the sturdy weight of his fruit bag he swung it around himself in a makeshift spin-attack. Luckily, it seemed the bokoblins were already damaged and the hit took them down. He stole a club and ducked the blows of the remaining monsters who’d finally noticed him. One by one he took them down until it was only him, the injured guy, and the combusting remains from the fight.

Link panted as he regained his bearings, scanning the area. The guy stared in shock.

“...Thank you.”

Link jolted. Right, there was a reason he’d come here. He turned and sported the most non-threatening smile he could as he approached the guy. Wait. Wasn’t he the same...

“Aren’t you the same guy from before? The sheikah?“ He didn’t seem too injured; a few shallow cuts through the fabric on his forearms, only some gracing skin, probably from shielding himself; a deeper cut on his outer thigh; and scraped hands from a rough landing. The biggest difference was the lack of white cloth around him. No wonder Link didn’t recognize him at first.

“Ah, how embarrassing,” the man said with a wince as he put pressure on his bleeding thigh using his scraped hands. He’d averted his eyes but in the corners of his sight the sheikah observed in odd fascination as Link after a soft “ _ oh _ ” looked around for something to bind his cut with. He could read the delight in the hero’s shoulders when he found the long stripe of white fabric he used for his disguise. The sheikah had thought he could use it to immobilize some of the monsters, but had lost it in the struggle.

He cringed a bit, although not without understanding the necessity, when it was ripped without hesitation it into thinner stripes. The hero hurried over to him, arms full of supplies, and kneeled down to tightly wrap his thigh. After checking so that the pressure wasn’t too tight, the hero searchingly looked up into his eyes and the sheikah found that he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

The months alone on the surface had been harsh to the hero, but not harsh enough that it had ruined his stunning appearance. His hair had grown past its usual style, reaching a little past his shoulders. The hard work of surviving down here had chiselled his already maturing body, including face and jaw, but boyish charm remained in his cheeks, smile and eyes.

Eyes. The blue tone of clear summer sky with lighter blues webbing around the iris was spellbinding. Finally, he couldn’t help but to look down at the full lips of the hero, finding that they were moving.

Link frowned. He grabbed the shoulders of the man and shook him a bit. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yes. Yes, of course.” The man cleared his throat as he schooled his face from heating.

“Alright. I’ll look at your arms now,” said Link. The sheikah nodded and reached across his chest to unfasten the sleeve on his left arm. Link was a bit stunned at the odd functions of the clothing but went straight to work when the injured arm was offered for him to grab. He rinsed it with some of his spring water, dabbed at it with some of his hand-made salve (hey it worked for him) and finally wrapped it up in the jagged stripes. He made quick work of both arms.

The sheikah flexed his fingers and found the bandages to be very well done. With a supporting hand on his back from the hero he stood.

“Thank you. ...Again.” He said with an apologetic smile.

Link shrugged it off with a, “No problem. It’s just what I do.” Link remembered the riddle. “Hey, now that we met again, would you mind explaining that riddle a bit for me?”

The sheikah tensed and stiffly detangled himself from Link. “I can’t do that. I have lingered too long already. Good bye.” He halted backwards away from Link and raised a loosely closed fist, ready to throw whatever made him disappear.

“Wait!” Link stretched out his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Just, tell me who you are at least.”

The sheikah hesitated.

“I’m Sheik,” Sheik said, threw the deku nut and vanished in the flash.

Once more Link was stupidly standing staring at nothing. What was with today? Nothing happened for months, and now suddenly all was happening at once? What would happen next? Ghirahim plopping down from the sky? No wait, he’s a demon so he’d pop out of the ground? Link slumped his shoulders and sighed.

Why couldn’t he move on from Ghirahim?

Link walked around the forest in the general direction of home, not really that hyped up for the day anymore. His eyes clouded over with conflicting images and memories. Ghirahim had come so close. He didn’t mean the sneak ambushes of him grabbing Links shoulder and puffing air along his cheek. Nor was he referring to how he was closely tempted into cooperating. (It had been so very tempting, his journey that far had been gruelling and after the tortuous journey through the inner workings of the volcano he’d been so tired of it all, and Ghirahim had seemed so sincere while Link had felt so little sincerity that he starved for it.) But no, that wasn’t it. Each time they had met Link felt they grew closer through what he learned of each of them. 

Both their missions were of the Divine-ordering kind. 

Both their “masters” were closer to go ds than humans, although Link hadn’t known  _ Zelda  _ would be his. 

Moreover, at times they both (he imagined) felt like they were on a wild goose chase, each step forward pushing them back by two leaps.

Link picked at a seam on his shirt. Seeing Ghirahim spiral down like that… Becoming more and more desperate, especially during their final fight… Link stood frozen in the humid woods, clutching at his chest and clenching his jaw. He willed himself to get a hold of himself. He shouldn’t stay in the past. It was over. Everything was over. Link released his breath and shifted his weight to start walking when--

Ghirahim had miscalculated his teleportation a few meters too high. He wasn't bothered by it and let himself materialize as usual. It was something he did intentionally at times after all, he thought and braced for impact. What he realized too late was that something stood  _ exactly where he would land. _

“Ooumph!”

The leaves clad surroundings whirled, red, yellows, browns storming around the pair. As the leaves once again settled they presented an unforgettable scene: Link, pinned to the ground by the body weight of a Demon Lord.  Blue met brown and neither spoke as they laid stiffly atop of another, staring into the other’s eyes. Hands firmly planted on each side of his head barred Link’s head.

_ Ghirahim-- _

_ Link-- _

They wouldn’t know, but in both their minds the echo of the other’s name bounced around in their head.

Eventually, Ghirahim teleported himself up and coughed into a fist. He seemed unsteady on his feet. Link didn’t move, he stayed in his starfish position staring at nothing. Ghirahim gestured theatrically, as if nothing had changed, as if _he_ hadn't changed and nothing had happened, as he spoke.

“Ah, sky child,” Link startled at the sound of the nickname from so long ago, “precisely the human I was looking for. You see, I once again feel rather ruffled by recent events. It would be such a help to vent a little.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ediit: Second chapter! I finally got my bearings together. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter, it wouldn't come to together as I wanted, but now it's finished. (I mean, I might go back and edit some details but all in all, it's done :3 ) Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Edit: I went back to my original formatting of the story, the pov's are now merged again! I've also added some more flavor to first chapter so check it out. :3
> 
> OG: I split the POV's into two chapters! I read somewhere that you shouldn't mix like I did and so I'm trying out how it feels like this. Might change back, stay on your toes ;) 
> 
> I think I got the storyline figured out now. In my last work the ending was different to what I had in mind, but I liked the change so there'll be no trouble if it changes for this one too.
> 
> Thank you for reading, you cute little shippers! Ahh, you remind me so much of myself. Any feedback, be it kudos comments or anything, is greatly appriciated and happily received, be it positive or negative. \\(^,^\\)


	3. But Words Sting

Link trained his eyes on Ghirahim, in awe for every flick of his white-clad wrists.

“As I was saying...”

He couldn't believe his eyes. Link scrambled up on his feet, having trouble to find his balance again on the slippery leaves. He didn’t really hear the extended monologue Ghirahim was offering. His cape fluttered in a wind that didn’t blow, the warm colours of red, gold and yellow enhanced by the matching backdrop of early autumn around them. Not much of his skin was visible, but it looked like it must have reversed to how it was when they first met at the end of Skyview Temple.

“...so you understand that it is necessary that you come with me. Correct?” Ghirahim looked to Link with a pointed look.

As Link pushed his hair out of his face, he was met with three options; one, he’d flat out refuse; two, he’d accept and try to discern the demons intentions; and three, ask him to repeat everything he’d just said.

He really hadn’t been listening.

“Well?”

“Are you real? Am I awake?” Oh alright, fourth option; question his sanity. He hadn’t felt this free of intelligence since Impa berated him for being late and failing to protect his childhood friend.

It wasn’t fair. During his quest his enemies yelled at him that he was irritating them, and sure that was understandable. But then he’d also been yelled at by his supposedly allies. Mocked and put to test over and over to prove that he was worthy. Persecuted by Demise’s followers, shunned by Hylia’s. What a fun trip. The only one he’d felt was remotely at his side was Fi, but she was gone now.

Ghirahim could tell Link hadn’t caught a word and frowned. What an insult to injury. However, with finally finding Link, a great piece to his puzzle, he couldn’t allow temperament to overrule him. He’d already checked that Link was weapon-less and the nearest bird statue was quite a ways. He could play this slow.

He stretched his arms out, palms up, in a show of good faith. His cape spread out around him in a nostalgic fashion. “I understand that I am quite a sight to take in all of a sudden, but you wouldn't dare forget about me, would you, Link?” He took slow steps forward, his brow twitched when he wobbled at some of them. If he could just reach him, then…

Link’s face hardened into a scowl. If this somehow truly was Ghirahim then he couldn’t afford to be naive.

“What is it that you want, Ghirahim?” Link widened his stance, preparing for anything that could possibly happen after an allegedly long gone demon falls on you.

The crunch of leaves ceased as Ghirahim stopped. “Oh not much. Your help, for starters.”

Link squinted. What scheme could Ghirahim possibly use him in?

“Isn’t that what you heroes do? Help the oh so poor and in need. And don’t start, I know for a fact that your services extend to demons. I am sure you recall my old friend, “ Ghirahim continued, gesticulating with his hands, “big, appalling horns, gross nails and hideously tattered wings. Ring a bell?”

“Batreaux.” Link offered, caught up in the story.

“Ah, yes. That’s the one. What he wanted was a place amongst the humans’ hearts, no? What I want is not that different.” Ghirahim lowered his arms and dropped his smile.

Link tensed his fists and prepared for the ground to shake, the light to flicker, but the lack of otherworldly actions left him uneasy. He looked to Ghirahim again who had shifted his sight and seemed, nervous?

“How do I phrase this delicately? Hmm... No, that not it. Ahrgh, let’s be done with it.” Ghirahim looked up and stared intently into Link’s eyes, reaching out towards him with his fingers aesthetically curled. His cape swished and rustled.

“What I want… No. What I need, is a piece of your heart, Link.” Ghirahim waved with his hand and added, "I would prefer to have all of it, truth be told, but as you know I'm not fussy."

His heart? Link slowly backed up and instinctively put a hand up to his chest, covering the steady thrumming within. He felt his pulse quicken in alarm.

Ghirahim dismissed Link’s distrust in a tired motion with his hand. “Oh don’t be silly. Put your hand down, I’m not a savage.” He began approaching Link once more. His growing shadow soon fell around Link who stood rooted in the ground.

“Listen, what I’m offering is not terrible in the least. At least not for you.” They were close enough now that Link would have easily been able to hit Ghirahim in quite a few vulnerable places if he were to try anything. “I merely ask of you that you stay with me.”

It must have been the gently scattering light of dusk reflecting on the scenery, the soft wind carrying the crisp scent of clean air, or the many other circumstantial coincides that made Link answer like he did.

It certainly wasn’t the sinking sorrow, the utter solitude reflected in Ghirahim’s eyes as he saw a part of himself in him that made him ever so slightly soften his stance and utter his response before he truly had time to think:

“I’ll do it.” 

~~~~

Link hadn’t known what to expect. Ghirahim had lit up at his approval, glanced down and touched a hand in the middle of his chest under his cape, were his skin was no-doubt exposed, in a warm gesture. It felt like it was a private moment not meant for prying eyes, but it did happen right in front of Link so how could he have avoided it?

Then a look of sly determination swept over his face and Link had no time to react as Ghirahim snaked an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies flush with each other.

“Hold tight.”

The snap flicked lightly at his ear and Link experienced his first teleportation. Ghirahim laughed as Link almost worshipped the ground when they their feet touched solidity again.

As soon as Link recovered enough stamina Ghirahim urged for them to move ahead. Apparently, the parts where they had appeared were not the safest.

Ghirahim slowed his step, informing absentmindedly that they were nearing the end of their walk. If Link didn’t know better he’d say the demon was forlorn, staring ahead into nothing. When he noticed him staring Ghirahim quirked an eyebrow at him.

Link whipped his head back to the trail they were following. He made a note to himself to be less obvious (why did he stare at all?).

After that, Ghirahim kept up his exaggeratedly flamboyant spirits. When they finally reached a pair of big double-doors Ghirahim introduced them in his usual grandiose way. Link struggled as he pushed the doors open (he had half a mind of who to blame for them growing heavier judging by the familiar laugh) when the demon lord decided to simply teleport inside by himself.  

The room was vacant save for fancy wall decor, balconies here and there providing a view of the dance floor, and two grandiose staircases on the far-off wall, which wound their way up to a second pair of equally grand doors. Link was stunned as he took in the luxurious room (ballroom, Ghirahim pointed out) with an imposing chandelier made entirely of clear shards. Even the new one he helped Kina’s father get was nothing against the still beauty of this one.

“Impressive isn’t it? I myself had a hand in designing this place.” Ghirahim blissfully sighed. “You’ll find there’s more to this room than ever meets the eye.”

Ghirahim let Link lead the way as he stepped into the ballroom.

“Amazing…” Link’s voice trailed off. He spoke thinly on his breath, eyes big as he regarded the hanging chandelier.

Gloved hands landed on his shoulders and he froze to the spot. Strong thumbs massaged into the stiff muscles of his shoulders and neck as a familiar murmuring voice settled by one of his pointy ears.  By now he should be used to the lack of personal space Ghirahim offered, but he wasn’t. He didn’t dare look away from the charming light of the chandelier, stiff at the close distance between the two of them. Even more so with the huge expanse of space allowing them to have more than enough room to themselves, if Ghirahim had let it.

“So tense… Relax. You’re in good company.” The small gusts of air on his ear and a faint sensation of pressure on his pulse caused Link to shiver. “I promise. Keep looking at the chandelier. It’s truly a piece of beauty like you said.”

The hands on his shoulders guided him this way and that. His joints moved stiffly as he walked where the demon told him to go. Link was made to look at various objects and subjects of loveliness in the vast room. Creeks and crevices he would have overlooked where thoroughly exposed, the insistent demon plastered to his side. Ghirahim led him to another room and repeated the process. It seemed like the amount of rooms were endless until he was lead out on a vast balcony.

“Ah, you shouldn't smell those flowers,” Ghirahim suddenly warned when Link put his nose down the middle of an enticing bundle of decorative flora.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”

Ghirahim observed Link from the corner of his eye. Now that he’d gotten a good look he could conclude that Link had changed a bit. Ghirahim's cause of worry didn’t let itself be shown, but Link… His hair was long and unkempt, his clothes unwashed and tattered, the heavy slingbag he wore caused an imbalance in his body leaving it askew. From what he glimpsed of his face it looked tired and worn. It was clear things were not exactly as they should with him.

“Is that a sparring ground?” Link pointed down from the balcony and lifted his gaze to level the question at Ghirahim.

Ghirahim stepped forward and said, “Indeed it is.”Link didn’t say anything in response but by the glimmer in his eyes and his grip on the railing it was easy to tell that his little discovery was something meaningful to him. Even Ghirahim noted this.

“I might be willing to prepare for some sparring, if it lies in your interest.” Abandoning the railing, Link turned swiftly towards Ghirahim with such open joy on his face that Ghirahim raised his brow, slightly taken aback.  _ Slightly _ .

He managed to compose himself with a cough and add, “Tomorrow, that is. Night has almost settled and I wish to rest.” He got a decisive nod in agreement from Link.

Tomorrow, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter! (/OuO)/ I am most pleased with you reading this story, thank youuu.
> 
> I think this is going well. Let's hope we can say the same for our two protaganists ヽ/❀o ل͜ o\ﾉ
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! I see you and I appriciate you!! Look forward to future chapters. Next update should come before September ends :)
> 
> Edit: I have no idea why the row-break formatting keeps messing with me, I'll be working to fix it.  
> Ediit: Fixed it! For this chapter at least, hopefully I won't have the same problem in the future ;)


	4. Itching Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning came and they fight it out.

Sparring! Link hadn’t had an opponent able to take more than two hits since Demise and Ghirahim in his sword form. Link pulled his lips between his teeth and held his fists excitedly in front of his chest as he reined in his sprudeling emotions.

His victory over Demise would forever loom in his mind, but the duel he felt was the actual pivot in those final hours was his last duel with Ghirahim. At first it had been like any of their encounters. No hesitation, pure focus. Ghirahim was ruthless as he’d attacked Link with no abandon, hits so heavy he couldn’t afford being hit at all. That much Link expected. 

What Link had not been prepared for was the way Ghirahim’s pained yelps and grunts echoed in his ears. As he gouged his way deeper and deeper into the crystal core of him it became all the more difficult to ignore. Each swing of his sword was a battle not only against his foe but to his own muscle fibers. The courage he had to muster to continue to strike throughout the battle was -- it was unbearable. It had brought a confusing ache to his chest and a blinding sting to his eyes that he couldn’t blink away. But he bore it. He had done it. 

And yet, it had been in vain.

Demise’s speech was rather boring compared to Ghirahim’s entertaining flare. As they faced each other in the watery infinite landscape, half of Link’s battered attention was always on his opponent’s sword. This Demon King’s ego, vanity and pride should have been the spitting image of Ghirahim. Link had methodically doged left and right, striking at this final fiend intermittently. Demise grunted and changed strategy after strategy and roared as his efforts showed themselves futile. But his struggle invoked no feelings in Link. At least none other than simple disdain.

Then, when Demise at last crumbled to his knees and struck the jagged black sword into the ground, Link’s mind brightened. He’d been struck with the idea to confiscate the large dark blade. Let Ghirahim face a trial or something. But his budding plans wilted before they could take root as the sword crumpled away without as much as a hint of acknowledgement from Demise. As Demise addressed Link and Hylia, and by extension Zelda and all their future selves, Link had only one crushing thing on his mind.

And now he stood right next to him.

“Ghirahim,” Link said softly. “How are you here?”

Ghirahim sighed as he turned his gaze. The sword, the demon, who walked through marble corridors and beaten paths of the woods alike as if he owned the very air, answered with a softly modulated tone. He’d observed the amusing theatrics of Link’s face, but now choose to look out over the forestry and ruins painted with hues of bright color from the early sun. 

“You’re so outspoken nowadays, Link. Couldn’t you have fixed that earlier? Imagine the conversations we could have had.” Ghirahim didn’t pause for a response but rather continued with Link’s topic. “Hmm. In all honesty, I have few recollections of after I merged as… the demon king’s sword. What I do remember is fuzzy and unclear.” He didn’t budge his fixed gaze as he moved a hand under his cape to his chest, slowly stroking there with his thumb. A shadow cast itself over his eyes. “But recent revelations have enlightened me to a very crucial task. The one I need your assistance with. You might go as far as call it a matter of life, and death.”

Link threw a look at the demon. Although once more looking forlorn, Ghirahim seemed perfectly healthy. He must be talking about someone he knows to be in grave danger. Someone close to him. No... Ghirahim couldn’t possibly be planning to bring back…? Link’s throat bobbed. He instinctively called for Fi’s analytics, but was reminded of where she was, and what she was sealing away. Possibly the very thing Ghirahim still plotted to revive. 

Link reminded himself to breathe. He’d sealed Demise once, but who knew if he’d be able to do it a second time? He would have to alert Zelda, Hylia. The goddess and leader within her. They needed to plan for that possibility.

Link sneaked another glance at the stiff expression Ghirahim bore as he looked out over the crumbling grounds this side of the mansion offered. He couldn’t just leave, Ghirahim might suspect something’s up. Link stared down at the back of his right hand. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. And Zelda would want more proof and facts to work her magic than a simple hunch. 

Link let go of his lower lip and as it regained its colouring he took a focused breath, concentrating on the brisk morning air flowing into his lungs. His body thankfully relaxed. The possibility of Ghirahim once more reviving his Master didn’t sit well with him. What if all that he’d worked for would just, be for nothing? He shuddered.

He didn’t like that he gained reason to be suspicious of Ghirahim’s, so far, good graces. Deep down he knew he wanted to give Ghirahim the benefit of the doubt. Link hadn't felt so in his element for - for months. Even in the past, the realizations of it being Ghirahim who awaited in the boss chamber had never failed to… 

Link felt his face heat for unknown reasons. Never failed to what? What was he about to finish that thought with? He dug his nails into his palms to break himself out of it. It almost worked. Anyway, just keeping an eye on Ghirahim for now should be alright. He’d wait with alerting Zelda. Link would just have to be careful not to seem too suspicious of him.

The sound of Ghirahim’s clearing his throat interrupted Link’s thoughts. “Now then, let's not dwell on the past and gloomy business when such splendid potential lies in our future.” Ghirahim tilted himself down to Link’s eye-level, letting his hand fall from his chest to instead rest at his lower back in a mock bow. He rose an eyebrow at Link with a cheeky quirk to his smile, tiptoeing the line of threat and banter as only he could. “I assure you the very prospect of getting up close and personal with you again sends sparks of amusement down my spine.”

Link didn’t have to fake the course of adrenalin beginning to pump through his veins. The recollections of their past brawls were enough. He’d pondered over Ghirahim’s intentions even before the horrid possibility of it being yet another revival of Demise. But with the leverage Link had he was pretty sure he was safe. For now, if nothing else. His beating heart was still unclaimed for whatever use Ghirahim planned for it. He was willing to bet Ghirahim wouldn’t hurt him too bad. 

_ “No, I’ll merely beat you within an inch of your life.” _

_ “I'll make your ears bleed with the shrill sound of your own screams.” _

_ “I call it the Endless Plunge!” _

The many unfulfilled promises bounced around in his mind as they made their way to the training grounds.

~~~~

The lingering mist that the sun had yet to burn away clung to the both of them, making clothes and hair stick to their skin. They'd gotten started quickly. Ghirahim now laughed merrily as he took a step to swing wide with his dual swords, cutting through the light fog. Wooden swords, of course. After all it was a simple sparring session. 

Though he aimed to hide it, Ghirahim panted slightly. Despite knowing that even the… the demon king, had fallen by the blade of this very opponent, he didn’t want to appear exerted from a little practice with a  _ human _ . Surely he hadn’t gotten that weak had he? No, no no. Preposterous. But the image of the shattered mess waiting within his chest rose in Ghirahim’s mind. He shook it away.

Ghirahim looked to the tattered sight of Link. Then again, Link wasn’t much better for wear. Hair loose and getting in his eyes, sad excuse of a pair of pants help up by nothing more than  _ rope,  _ his Skyloft tunic carefully mended but still grimy with dust, grass stains and sweat.  The Ghirahim lamented the thought of having to get close to the surely smelly heap of hero in front of him. 

Alas, a fight was a fight. And if this would make Link trust him than he'd do it. He puffed out a breath in amusement. It came out as a little cloud in front of his face. How dealing with him blade to blade was reassuring he couldn't fathom. He might as well have some fun.

Swiftly, Ghirahim teleported out of sight.  His disembodied voice trembled around Link and the surrounding greenery. “You are quite a complicated being aren’t you? Short circuiting at a huff by your ear..,” Ghirahim let his words dangle in the air and begin to ebb, before he appeared once more. 

Link grunted. He grit his teeth and had to hunch over at the sudden added weight of Ghirahim draping himself heavily over his back, his arms hanging over Link’s shoulders. His knees dug into the back of his thighs and he could feel the hard surface of the angled diamond on Ghirahim’s hip. 

At least, he thought it was the diamond.

Ghirahim’s breath tickled his ear. “While barely have an issue with being  _ hotly, passionately  _ pressed up against me in wrestling and... swordplay.” Ghirahim continued, humming sweetly into Link’s ear. He chuckled as the tips of them turned ever warmer and redder, steadily spreading and making them burn. 

Link struggled to shake the weight of the sword spirit off of him when he started recovering from the shock. Ghirahim sighed, amused. He exhaled on the word “adorable”  ghosting on Link’s ears as he once more disappeared.

Link shook himself, ruffled. He covered his ear as he called out, “Stop playing around! Fight me for real!” around him when he’d sorted himself out, not knowing where Ghirahim would appear next. 

Ghirahim's disembodied mirthful voice again rang around Link. “Who said I was playing? This is how I fight, isn’t it, sky child. Or did you perchance forget?” Ghirahim’s sly expression appeared right in front of Link’s face this time. He stroked a finger under Link’s chin, tilting his head up, and he practically purred as he spoke with a sorrow-laced voice. “Did you? I’m hurt.” Link might have almost believed him, but the relishing look in his eyes betrayed him.

Being a little more prepared this time Link belatedly attacked. He swept an arm throu gh the air in a wide swing. He bit out a bitter laugh as it sailed through nothing but air. It vexed Link. Ha d he looked forward to this? What kind of stupid ass decision, voluntarily stepping into a fight with a demon -- with this one in particular no less. Link ducked and parried, ducked and parried at Ghirahim’s onslaught. His arms and legs and shoulders ached. Ghirahim hopped around between dimensions, his pattern so much more erratic than during Link’s quest. 

And much more disregarding of personal space. His skin buzzed from where Ghirahim poked and grabbed and teased. 

He guessed one of few consolement he had was that he could use his enemy to his advantage. Learn about his plot, learn his movements. Work up strength against their possible upcoming throw-down and… 

_ Oh who am I trying to fool _ , Link thought as he took another swing at Ghirahim. He hadn’t had this much fun in what felt like ages _. _ Even now he couldn’t fight the grin steadily spreading on his face.

Eventually though, once more coming up short of breath after a taxing side-roll, Link did get fed up with Ghirahim's antics and said, “Will you  _ stop  _ touching me like that?” He rolled again to the left and narrowly escaped a hit to his ankle from one of Ghirahim's daggers. Cheater. He swept his own wooden blade up in a back-slice earning a grunt. Ghirahim briefly appeared to the center of the grounds again before vanishing mid-jump. “I don’t know what kind of norms demons have,” Link spoke while sidestepping to avoid the blow he knew was coming from above and sure enough Ghirahim plunged hard into the ground, a few splinters of his swords flying around. He was beginning to relearn Ghirahim’s patterns. “But don’t drag me into it. I’ve never been fine with it.” 

Ghirahim materialized and paused as he considered Link’s words. Link almost pleaded behind his concentrated scowl as he caught his breath. His jaw was aching with how he pressed his teeth together. They’d been going at it for awhile now, the dewy air that accompanied the early autumn morning almost completely faded. 

“Oh?” Ghirahim raised a brow while relaxing his stance, taking the moment to stealthily calm his own breathing. “I’m offended. I’ll have you know I never move without consent, sky child. If it wasn’t your mind that gave the OK then your body sure did.” Ghirahim tutted. “You shouldn’t put blame on others, Link. It’s simply bad form.”

Link shifted his jaw, jutting it out. He felt the heat from battle cool into something smoldering. Just because he said he would help didn’t mean he had to roll over and take whatever Ghirahim decided to dish out. Besides, what Zelda had taught him about negotiations meant that he held the sole thing Ghirahim sorely needed, and it was beating feveretly in his chest. He was in a position to make demands.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously then I’ll go and do something actually useful with my time. I won't help you if there's no respect. Good luck, with whatever your problem was,” Link replied and straightened up. He threw his weapon to Ghirahim who let it de-materialise as it flew towards him. ”Thank you for sparring, it was nice to let loose a bit.”

Ghirahim extended an arm in Link’s path as he tried to pass him. “Sky child. Wait.” The distance between them was aching with tension. You could almost grab it and tie a knot. Link didn’t move. He stared at the diamonds cut into the heat crumpled white fabric of the glove leveled just in fron t of his shoulders and chest. 

“Do pardon me. I assure you I intended no harm, you must see that,” Ghirahim reasoned with a seemingly apologetic smile.

Link repeated the word in his mind.  _ Harm?  _ All he saw in front of him was the destruction and fear and  _ harm _ Demise and his minions had caused, by some Ghirahim too was to blame. How Zelda was stripped from her family and Link, and how the beautiful world of the Surface had been mutilated. (Before ret urning through the Gate after defeating Demise Link had explored the Faron Woods region. What he’d seen would forever haunt him. It made the basement of the Ancient Cistern seem pleasant enough for a picnic. Not to mention the bodies and rows upon rows of raised mounds in the earth made him understand just how small the amount of humans back in Skyloft was.) He imagined it happening all over again. Would happen, if Ghirahim’s plan reached fruition.

“Well, harm is what you demons do isn’t it.” Link grabbed the arm extended in front of him and shoved it back to its owner, spinning towards the demon. He tilted his head up, locking their eyes. His taut voice bounced off the stone walls of the court yard up into the endless cloud-dotted blue sky. He pointed his index finger up at Ghirahim torso. For a moment a vision of Zelda standing up for him flashed through his mind. It was traded for the shocked face of Ghirahim staring at him as he opened his mouth again. He punctuated his words with jabs of his finger at Ghirahim’s chest. 

“It’s written in your very  _ core. _ And there are wounds that will never show on my body that are  _ deeper and more hurtful _ than anything, and you should know damn well to respect a simple request.” His arm fell back to his side.

Ghirahim stared down at the skyloftian, shaking as he fought the urge to swat his hand away. There was an acute sense of an invisible dagger etching itself deeper and deeper at his core. Growing  at  every hostile act and word thrown at him. Because of the grudge? Because of Link? He should have read the book more carefully. He'll consult it again. The urge to vomit at the phantom pain resurfaced. He grit his teeth to force it away.

Link frowned at Ghirahim’s lack of response. He always had clever words in storage. He scanned his stiff appearance, unnerved by how still and lifeless he looked. “Say something.”

Ghirahim took a second to make sure it was words that would be dripping out of his mouth when he opened it. “You’re being ridiculous, sky child,” the words came out in more of a ramble than he intended. “You are overreacting. I don’t have the slightest clue to what you’re talking about.” He found that once he started he couldn’t stop. “You know, it is not  _ easy _ being me. Having nothing but the strength of my own character to rely on. The  _ death of a life _ is imminent at any moment and I only have the childish idea of  _ hope  _ to place faith in. And in a  _ hero _ no less. ” 

The surrounding sunlight flared and waned in tune with Ghirahim. The calm landscape of the sculpted garden seemed to flinch and turn solemnly still, shying away from the wild temper. Link stared at Ghirahim with shine in his eyes before shifting his heated gaze away, breaking eye-contact. Ghirahim suddenly sneered and g rabbed a tight hold on Link’s upper arm, hoisting him up. Link winced and Ghirahim felt another twinge from his chest. Like something straining from breaking in two. A bent twig starting to give. He ignored it, and again spoke words that he didn't truly mean. 

“You’d do well to realize that you being here, unscathed, is all thanks to me and  _ my self-control, _ “ he shook the arm he was gripping despite the increased creaking inside him. Link swallowed, it had been awhile since he’d seen true harmful intent from a foe that it took him by surprise. “I should have ripped you to shreds long ago you, you  _ insolent-- _ ” 

Ghirahim gasped and lost his hold of Link who toppled to the ground.  _ Shit.  _ He patted and pressed with both hands on his chest as if they could amend the damage. Another turbulent crack resounded in Ghirahim's chest and he had to instinctively cover his mouth.  _ Shit. Shit. Shit. And I had felt it healing too.  _ He stumbled  a retreating step and took a few deep breaths. Link gaped from where he’d been abandoned on the gravel. He scrambled up on his feet as Ghirahim curled in on himself but  when Ghirahim’s knees hit heavy on the ground Link choked on whatever words he might have spoken.

The illumination around them almost returned to normal.  _ Almost _ . A worrying shade of cold blue tinted the world around them, the life of the overgrown gar den around them wilting a little in the light. Even Link felt like the air was harder to breathe and raised his arm to massage his throat. It didn’t help. 

In fact, less and less oxygen reached him and he began to chip after air. Panic spread through him.  _ I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.  _ He could barely see in front of him anymore, the dim light and the spots in his vision rendering him practically blind.  _ Air. Air. Air. Air.  _ He used the last of his focus and strength to run as fast as he could back into the building. 

He gulped down the air like water as it washed over him once more once he was far enough. His feet didn’t stop but kept on running, through the halls, up stairs and down stairs, between curtain doors. His feet stirred dust-clouds as he stormed out and away from the mansion. 

The demon lord could only watch and listen from where he collapsed as the thuds of footsteps grew fainter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! :D I managed to get it done within the month yay  
> This one was tricky with the way I write chapters, but I feel like it worked out. I extended the number of chapters for this story from 5 to 7. I honestly don't know the exact number yet, how many it'll take to fit it all, but it won't be too long. Thing's are starting to happen ;)
> 
> As always I appreciate any and all feedback! Kudos, comments you name it. It helps me know that you want to keep reading \\(*^-^*)/


	5. Vice-like Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery deepens.

Link managed in his rage to track his way back to his own little castle. It was easier to reach for him than he’d imagined. He was glad he’d brought his sailcloth. He rubbed his hands as he moved towards the tallest tree he could find at the short notice, scaling it, and aimed for the distorted charcoal blackened roof barely visible amongst the forest tree tops, then simply glided down with his sailcloth. He shivered, but didn’t let his ice-cold hands lose their grip as he descended. As his boots touched the slippery ground he sprung back into a sprint. Dashing through the familiar area surrounding his home, weaving around fallen pillars and debris under the unstable roof, he threw the door closed as he at last reached his room.

His body ached from the strain of holding his bodyweight airborne for such a long time. The slight warmth to his room burned on his freezing skin. The change from the eternal state of summer to the discolouring of autumn had startled Link, unused to even bad weather from living in the paradise Hylia had once made of Skyloft. Going from autumn to winter was less of a shock, but just as strange and foreign.

Link huffed as he rubbed feeling back into his limbs. All that time apart must have made Link construct his own version of the Demon Lord. He’d forgotten how infuriating, and absolutely, completely -- words failed him and he chucked a broken piece of wood at a wall in frustration. His pulse beat loudly in his ears. Ghirahim was nothing more than a lowly demon after all. Even now while asking for help (for his own hidden scheme at that) he insisted on threats.

Link closed his hands, littered with old scars and calluses, into fists. Two could play at that game, he’ll show him. Link’s blunt fingernails dug indents into his palms. Next time he saw him, if they ever met again, Link would cleave Ghirahim in two just like he would with a simple bokoblin. A clean cut, straight through him. 

But Link slowed as the mental image of Ghirahim impaled on his sword, limp and lifeless, a bleeding hand grasped around the blade and it’s twisting hilt constructed itself in his mind. Ghirahim gasping for breaths he was unable to take, slowly dissolving into purple smoke. The horrid image startled Link into a complete halt. He shook his head, frowning. It shouldn’t startle him. But already he could feel his anger drain, burned away and replaced with regret. Link collected his legs and slumped down on the floor, leaning against the table’s fire damaged wood.

His sight caught on his bed. Specifically on the blanket that laid there, a corner of the patchwork roughly sewn with a mix of frayed cloths once dyed in bright yellow, red and white. Arms resting on his knees, he breathed into the crook of his elbow.

_ Ghirahim _ .

He was actually back. Somehow. Link hadn’t had time to think about it, being whisked away as he had been. Their fluke reunion passed so quickly, only now that he was alone did have a chance to finally sink in. Link reached for the blanket that had caught his eye, stroked a thumb over the uneven red seam holding the colours together.

_ Ghirahim… _

What had he said that time in the volcano? Something about a red thread forever binding them together, destined to meet.

A sigh escaped him, his eyes lidded in his trip to memory lane. Link’s calmed heart was restless. He could feel heat steadily claiming his cheeks. The way Ghirahim scanned him, touched him, his way with words. Link hadn’t known he’d missed it so much once it disappeared, that it had affected him so deeply. Until he got to experience it again.

He buried his face in the blanket and groaned into it. He should go back. He made a promise, even if he had nothing much of value anymore, and even if in the end he couldn’t actually help Ghirahim (in the case of him truly intending to revive Demise). Once made, promises were the one thing he would make sure to honor. His only currency in these times of peace.

He flopped down on his cottage. So what now? Ghirahim had basically tried to kill him. He should be scared. Terrified. Traumatized beyond repair, fearing not being able to breathe; it should make him sick. Somehow, he wasn’t.

He studied the old ceiling, littered with cracks and dirt from the fiery smoke that once consumed this castle. Maybe in a weird way he expected as much. After all, Ghirahim had in theory been after his blood since the very beginning.

His eyes searched for his green garment, finding it fallen on the floor. Ghirahim had always been upfront about his intentions. He’d never, to Link’s knowledge, actually lied or manipulated him. Dealt him physical damage, yes. But not messing with his mind or his feelings, never using him without revealing the fact. He didn’t dislike that about him. Link frowned. So why was he hiding his plans now? It didn’t fit with his character.

~~

Dammit. Ghirahim cursed himself for losing control. How could he have let that happen? He winced at a twinge in his chest, radiating up his throat and back his spine. He longed for the wash of stillness the presence of Link’s aura had given him during those few hours of relief. Ghirahim gasped, pain laced his entire form. He needed to get back to him, Ghirahim wouldn’t let his plan be crumbled by a mere squabble.

He pulled a knee under himself and slowly raised himself up, careful not to cause a spell of dizziness -- he’s been acquainted with the yard gravel well enough. He leaned forward and stumbled after Link’s fading presence. It would prove a bit of a challenge to track such a small trail in his current weak state, but he was on his way regardless. Two feet back into the mansion however, he stopped.

In the corner of his eye he saw the book, splayed open as if it had been dropped on the floor seconds before. Ghirahim looked left and right. Nothing. No one. Disregarding its odd placement for now - he was sure he put it in the library - Ghirahim considered the pull he felt towards the book, and the already thin presence left by Link fading by the moment.

He huffed, and with the help of an impatient gesture from him the book floated in the air and landed in Ghirahim’s grasp. Back to scratch, it seemed. These worn pages would better have something good to reveal. Ghirahim flipped to the yellowed and worn slip of paper bearing the number one thousand, seven hundred and twenty nine, scanned for the section for crystals and cores, and did a double-take.

With new-found vigor Ghirahim stuck his nose close between the pages and scanned the text. He skipped the indiscernible introduction to the paragraph and consumed contents. He was sure this segment had been written in runes older than even he could interpret, yet, now, the space was occupied by text written in plain old Hylian, with the exception of a few still unrecognizable words. Ghirahim waved the thought away, no matter that. It wasn’t necessary to understand it all, the point was that now, he could pronounce everything.

Feeling it call for him, Ghirahim decided to try what he saw as a spell immediately. He put out a hand parallel with the floor and conjured a simple magic circle, not too draining in his now even more unstable condition since his, he clicked his tongue,  _ fight _ , with Link. Why couldn’t the boy be a good energy source and be mellow and calmly let Ghirahim rebuild himself, hm?

Ghirahim refocused and closed the book after hurriedly memorizing the words. Making educated guesses about how to proceed he laid it in the middle of the circle. He recited the words, fingers twitching as they hovered back and forth.

_ I call to the powers below and above _

_ North, East, South, West _

_ In the name of Ai. _

_ Heal this hjärta _

_ who is so dear _

_ heal all this smärta _

_ heal all this fear _

_ I send this power, _

_ hjärta of gold, _

_ I send this light _

_ and Ai untold   _

_ To heal this hjärta _

_ to make it bright _

_ flare like the sun _

_ in day and night _

He could feel the red circle reacting, turning yellow and shining just a little brighter. He tried his luck with the final paragraph, written a little further down the page he’d committed to memory, and in a slightly different typesetting. He spoke them louder and with more vigor. 

_ From me to you _

_ my Ai will flöda _

_ you shall be healed _

_ and, together, we shall... glöda... _

“Urgh…!”

Ghirahim's legs folded as he pronounced the last syllable and fell to the floor hard. He felt something happening, but he couldn’t yet tell if he’d been successful with the spell or not. An amount of power shook the walls, layers of fine dust floated down and shined mockingly in the streaks of wane sunlight, dancing towards the floor. His vision suddenly got thinner, darkness eating at the edges. The length of his body felt numb against the stone pavement.

All pain was gone. 

Yes, no pain.

Just nothingness.

Like his body was going to sleep without his mind.

His chest got heavier, breath slowing and turning shallow. Ghirahim realized this couldn’t be correct, he needed to remove the book from the circle. Cancel the spell.  _ Now _ . He grasped after it in the increasingly rattling room, rallying his strength he willed his closest hand to bat the book away. On his third attempt, just as all light almost drained from his eyes, he managed to get it out. The room stilled, the light from the circle faded and eventually the circle itself disappeared.

Ghirahim let out a deep breath and his senses returned to him in a rushing flood. The numbness of his body left and his vision cleared. Testingly, he blinked a few times as he sat up, two fingers massaging his temple. Everything had been fine until that last verse. His fingers trembled, he noticed, and he closed them into fists. That had been close. He stood up, taking a moment to inspect his form. Nothing seemed to have been altered. He let his eyes close and shifted his focus inward. But no, no change to his core either. Hm?

What was that?

He turned over his shoulder and, there something was that wasn’t before. A shimmering path appeared in his vision when he concentrated in a certain way. It smelled of pine trees, wind and open landscapes. He smiled and glanced at the book, it seemed the spell had done its job after all -- or rather  _ a  _ job, the true workings of the magic still not unveiled. He snapped his fingers, summoning for his trademark diamond patterned cloak, it fluttered as it laid itself into place around him. He left the book where it was in spite, a strange sense of courage trickling into his core for each step he put on the path ahead.

“Hello.”

Link yelped and fell out of his bed. Disoriented and veins pumping with adrenaline, he turned around ready for any threat and his eyes widened. Perched on his table was-

“Sheik!”

Sheiki dropped down behind him. Link tracked his movement. “It’s a fragile thing.”

“What?”

“What you two are attempting to create. It is not easily done, I commend you both for trying.”

“You’re not making any sense, Sheik. Are you feeling alright? Did an infection get you last time after all.” Link offered a hand.

“I am perfectly fine, Hero. What’s more cause for worry is you.”

Link stared at Shiek with a look that told how little he cared about that at the moment. Sheik turned his gaze. Link followed it, but found that he was looking towards a space in the room where there should be nothing to see.

“He’s coming here.”

Link’s expression morphed into slight panic. As strange as it was, Sheik could only mean one individual. At a loss of what to do with that pressing information, Link looked around his wrecked room, dust, sot and spider web serving as sporadic decoration. They seemed to shrink back at the sudden attention, and offered no guidance.

_ Not far now. _

Ghirahim tracked the sparkly path with strength and speed unknown to him their source. Air rushed by his face as he dashed through the colourful but tired looking fog filled woods, wind pushing his hair back and revealing the torn edges of his rounded ear which was usually safely hidden by the curtain of pale strands. He favored running rather than teleporting, despite this new-found strength it was not enough to jump around aimlessly with. He pulled his cloak closer around himself, the moist chill of the wind penetrating through even his hardened skin.

Getting closer, Ghirahim felt a second presence entwined with that of the sky child. His upper lip curled in distaste. He pushed his pace harder, his feet barely rested on the ground between his hurried leaps.

Back at Link’s place, Sheik remained a facade of calm.

“Let me remind you, Link.”

Link shifted his focus to Sheik.

“What rivers flow to and mountains reach for, where past meets future, that's where your destiny awaits. Remember I told you this? I'll give you another clue to help you along.”

Link straightened at Sheik’s tone, mysterious and sombre. Sheik stood steady, feeling his weight equally distributed on the soles of his feet. Link heard him inhale behind his disguise. Sheik fixed his gaze with Link’s as he spoke.

“The river’s violent flow, longs for the steady embrace of the ocean, but the journey there is long and taxing. The mountain, reach for the freedom of the sky, but it is a freedom it can never have.”

Link ears pricked up, straining to imprint into his mind the words spoken with such strange rhythm, almost melodic.

“Together, the ocean and the sky form reflections of the other. Together, they are two halves of a whole.” Sheik steadily made his way over to Link. Right as he was about to cup his jaw, Link tensed.

“Ghirahim,” Link whispered. His eyes didn’t leave the red of the sheikah. He’d said it so quietly that even to Sheik who was standing less than a foot away barely caught the word. Sure enough though, Ghirahim pierced through between the atoms of the castle wall, materializing on the other side out of a metallic cluster of diamonds. After all their battles Link might’ve developed a Ghirahim-sense. 

Ghirahim wavered as his feet connected with the uneven blocks of rock the floor was made of, lost without balance or guidelines of directions for a moment, his body straind from the teleport. At the sight of the two already occupying the space, he determinedly shook it off, hunching his shoulders forward, glaring. 

_ ‘A sheikah, huh. They would learn not to be so touchy-feely with this skychild.’ _

Ghirahim pushed off and pushed Link behind him as he appeared in the dimly lit room between the pair. Link took a step back in surprise, grabbing hold of the wobbly table behind him, choking on a second exclamation of Ghirahim’s name. Said demon swiftly snapped and a circle of glowing red daggers materialized, tips pointed towards the Sheikah.

Ghirahim scowled. His threatening stance was slow and stable, the focus of battle enveloping him. “Explain yourself.” The daggers drew closer, their red gleam threatening in the suddenly darkened room. ”Before I decide it doesn’t make a difference.”

Sheik regarded the pair. Link, removed from his touch, was held back as Ghirahim determinedly acted as shield and weapon against the “intruder”. A smile calmly spread behind his cowl. Maybe he’d been worried for naught. Although, it seemed the sudden entrance made by the Demon Lord was not agreed upon, judging by Link’s lack of reaction other than standing in shock. Fufufu, how delightful.

“Now, now.” It’s been a while since he got to play a villain in a story. “Let’s not break up the fun shall we, oh Lord of this land, hm?” Sheik mocked. Link tensed at the sudden shift of character. 

Ghirahim frowned and discreetly shifted his hand, but Sheik was quicker, bouncing out of the attacking daggers with threatening ease. Hidden in the bright blast of a deku nut, he appeared behind Link and spoke into his ear. 

“Remember, Link.” He squeezed Link’s shoulder, emphasizing his words. “The river.” Sure he had Link’s attention he lifted two fingers from his grip on him to point towards the back of the unassuming but increasingly irritated demon lord. “The mountain.”

“YOU INSECT-!” Ghirahim finally spotted Sheik behind Link. He hesitated however, shifting his weight, surely thinking Sheik was using Link as hostage.

Sheik narrowed his eyes in amusement and, while staring the sword spirit dead in the eye, whispering finally so only Link could hear. “Keep courage and best of luck. May we meet again.” Sheik felt a flickering aura, dark with violent tendrils twitching and curling, unseen behind the Demon Lord. Even more so when Sheik pulled down his cowl and finished his statement by giving Link a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

As his lips seperated with Link’s skin a dagger soared nervously close to the back of Sheik’s head. Chuckling, Sheik readjusted his disguise and dogged over to the windowsill, escaping waves of menacing red daggers flying his way. He made a show of his departure to further agitate the demon, offering a mock salute before falling backwards out into the open air.

Link startled out of his paralysis and pushed into a dash towards where Sheik made his stomach-dropping exit. But the reassuring poof of another deku nut calmed him before panic could fester.

Ghirahim pressed his teeth together, seething. “I’ll find him.” Less than elegantly, Ghirahim stomped over to the window. He was going to track down this pest of an addition to the list of sheikahs he despised and give him a good lesson in  _ manners  _ \-- but he was jerked back. Link had halted him, grabbing onto his cape. Ghirahim flicked his head back and glared, prepared to say some clever things. He quieted at the sight of a frowning Link and his voiceless mouth opening and closing.

The adrenaline from the two unexpected visitors had rendered Link’s tongue mute.

Ghirahim side eyed Link. Unable to explain Sheik's presence, Ghirahim misunderstood Link’s silence for being rattled and scared. He figured that, while on adventures Link must have always expected enemies, ready and poised for a sudden arrow or ambush, but not now after the fact. And certainly not in his own room, Ghirahim looked around the space properly for the first time since setting foot there and his nose scrunched up, if it could be called that.

In the end, Ghirahim relaxed. Calmer now in the soothing presence of Link’s energy, a balm to the aches his core seemed to lately cause more often. Ghirahim let his eyes fall shut, made his captured cape materialize off of him, out of Link’s tense fingers, and onto Link’s drawn shoulders.

Link’s eyes widened at the heavy embrace of the cape. But his surprise didn’t stop there. Free, Ghirahim dematerialized his weapons and turned towards Link.

“Did that imbecile manage to harm you?”

Link could hardly believe his ears. Wide-eyed, he shook his head. Ghirahim didn’t stop though. The gentle sway of the cape swept on the floor, collecting some dust, as Link shifted his weight under the grueling attention of the demon. Link stretched an arm across his chest and grabbed the hem of the cape, bringing it closer around him. This was the opposite of what he expected of Ghirahim, especially after the way they parted.

Ghirahim didn’t cease offering phrases that Link, while bewildered, could see no other purpose for than to offer comfort, like “He’s gone.” “Rest assured.” “His reeking presence has faded.”

“Were you really not harmed?” Ghirahim questioned while scanning Link with his eyes. Ghirahim stepped closer, reaching forward a hand. Link sucked in a breath.

Link stiffened as Ghirahim, quick and efficient, swept away the hair limply hanging and concealing a good part of the left side of Link’s face. Nimbly, it was lifted up and behind the pointed tip of the ear there. His glove lightly stroked the fine hairs on the skin of Link’s cheek with the action and Link shivered at the touch. Ghirahim peered down at him, the brown of his eyes smouldering.

“He did something here, is that correct?”

Link startled out of his daze. He shook his head. Ghirahim paused, but seemed to accept it.

“I see. Good.” He didn’t sound satisfied though. Which was true, Ghirahim wasn’t satisfied. He was bitter, that he had another failure on his neck. Would he never be able to achieve what he sought to? Ghirahim lowered his hand, backed up and walked past the sky child.

Link sighed in relief.

“Link, I owe you an apology.” Link didn’t react beyond offering his attention, turning towards the demon only to be faced with his back. “I asked you for help and I offered only rude remarks and approaches in return.” Ghirahim turned back around. Link’s eyebrows raised as Ghirahim took a deep bow. 

“I sincerely apologize.”

Speechless, now for other reasons, a multitude of reasons, Link didn’t know how to respond or react. His particular brand of silence must have revealed as much, as Ghirahim added smoothly as he slowly raised himself back up; 

“You don’t have to say anything, even less forgive me. If you’re still willing to help after all this mess then, I believe I owe you a more proper explanation as to why I’m in this position of need to begin with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaaaaaapter fiiiive! (♡´艸`) It seems like it takes around three weeks to write a chapter, in case you want a schedule. I'm really satisfied with this batch. Hope you are too! As always, I look forward to your feedback! Comments or otherwise. So far it feels like I'm getting a bit better with each chapter, more comfortable with my writing. ヽ(ヅ)ノ
> 
> I borrowed the "spell", and made some modifications to it, but the original is from https://magic-spells-and-potions.com/asksfx/spell_friend_heal_broken_heart.htm . The use in the story is of course different though.


	6. Soothing Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghirahim likes to talk. A lot. And he's not one for cold.

Outside, cold rain started to drizzle. Cool breezes of air, chilly winds flew into the room through the crumbling frames of the shutterfree windows. The winds curled themselves around Link’s ankles, nipping at his skin. He found himself grateful for the cape around him. 

The formless force whizzed through the window, hissing in their ears, and as the winds grew in strength Link couldn’t help but snort at the increasingly annoyed expression on Ghirahim's face, his pristine panel of hair swatting about. Link noticed that Ghirahim too shivered. Although, judging by his stubborn nonchalant stance, it looked like he tried to hide it. 

Which wasn’t the only thing he was hiding. But keeping Ghirahim's words in mind Link presumed a lot would be revealed soon. 

After a moment with a lack of verbal interaction, Link decided to take pity on Ghirahim. 

“We can go into the basement. The windows are still whole there.” 

Ghirahim’s annoyed face morphed with disgust at the suggestion. He would never step foot in a surely moist, water damaged, mould ridden  _ cellar _ , but Link intercepted him before he could complain. 

“It has fireplaces. And a warm couch.” 

Ghirahim considered for a moment during which time Link started to prepare for the move downstairs, picking up the few blankets and cushions and warm fabrics he had accumulated over his stay, huddling about with the crimson cape dragging around with him. Ghirahim noticed with a raised brow that Link avoided the fallen green tunic that unloved laid crumpled on the floor.

Another heavy gust blew into the room and Ghirahim snarled, stomping towards Link in a hurry as he finally caved.

“Lead the way.”

~~~~

Link took them both down spirals of stairs for the promised shelter, lighting the torches that were dry enough on the way. Ghirahim had to duck a few times as the pathways got narrower but soon it opened up to the large expanse of the basement segment. Link headed onwards, hoisted down what he carried on the, though inviting, old couch in front of an ornate fireplace. 

Ghirahim dispassionately flicked his eyes around the available space. He huffed. Not too bad, he supposed. Settling his sight on the fireplace he snapped his fingers, his lips tugging up when the burst of flames and light caused Link to jolt. His amusement deepened further when he received a look of embarrassed anger over Link’s shoulder, with that little crook between his brows and the quirk in his tensed lips. Worth the little waste of magic. 

They both settled down on the couch. Ghirahim plomped down heavily on it, somehow maintaining a certain grace about it. Link took off his boots and brought his legs up, folding his toes into the wram crooks of his knees. The red mass of the cape engulfed him.

Suddenly recovered from their lull of playful pranks, Link regarded Ghirahim’s profile, the open complexity of his sombre expression. Ghirahim’s hand rested of the exposed middle of his chest as he looked at the dancing shadows around the fireplace.

“I’m afraid I am still not quite sure how I should go about explaining at this point,” Ghirahim said in contemplation. He turned towards Link, but his eyes trailed to the side, glancing down and away. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he seemed to settle for what to do. “I guess I’ll begin with simply... showing you, what I’m dealing with. Now, don’t be alarmed,” Ghirahim’s hand didn’t seem to want to part with his chest, reluctantly it was peeled away, uncovering his chest... 

...and the visible skin began to shift. 

“I know my powers and I instill awe and fear in even the strongest of souls.”

Darkness, bordering to black, slowly spread out from the middle of his chest. Ghirahim winced. Link flicked his eyes from Ghirahim’s face to his chest and back, tensing his fingers where they rested on his knees. Ghirahim looked up and finally met Link’s eyes, it looked like he tried to mask what he felt with nonchalance. 

“However, I do expect more of the fabled Hero, than that.”

Slithering, the darkness expanded in a criss-crossing, pulsating fashion. Soon reaching halfway across Ghirahim’s abdomen. Even painting across the skin visible through the lower of the two diamonds carved out in the white chest piece. Link sat still in his seat, unsure of what to make of what was happening. 

Then, as if in pain, Ghirahim’s face contorted. One of his hands glowed a faint red, hovering in front of the crystal just barely without hiding it from Link’s view. His other hand gripped harshly at the edge of the couch, twisting the material. When Ghirahim twitched forward and gasped Link startled, reacting by twitching forward. Unknowingly he held his breath.

Slowly, splintered piece after splintered piece, Ghirahim’s core was revealed to the dancing light of the fire’s flames. The effort left him shaking, had he been human pearls of sweat would have formed at his temples, but he didn’t cease. More and more of his core was brought to the corroding air. 

Link’s eyes widened as he came to a realization. He was relieved to find more evidence supporting his hope that Ghirahim’s intentions weren’t to revive Demise, since the one obviously hurt was right here in front of him, but… 

But was this… 

Was this the damage left from their fight during Demise’s revival ritual? 

The fragile looking shards and crystal fragments looked sharp and uncomfortable to Link. He frowned as he imagined the pain Ghirahim must suffer. Had suffered, ever since then. Did the splinters hurt when they were hidden inside? Did they chafe and scrape with each breath Ghirahim took? With each bend and expansion of his chest? No wonder Ghirahim seemed so out of it sometimes, so mellow and subdued.

Link flicked his eyes to Ghirahim’s face and felt a twinge go through him. That expression, it’s been so long since Ghirahim wore that expression. Link faintly shook his head. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to see Ghirahim like this. He was supposed to be strong. Fear-instilling. Unbeatable. 

Not, fragile. Not soft. Not conflicted. And not so --

_ Human _ .

“As much as it aggravates me. Hah... This… Ngh. Is why I, regrettably, need you,” Ghirahim pushed out in-between laboured breaths as he struggled to maintain the shift. Slightly his voice took on the wobbly and metallicity echoing quality as when he’d been in his complete sword spirit form.

Link’s eyes flickered and his jaw worked in vain as he sat there unable to utter a word. He raised his hands but didn’t have the slightest idea of where to move them. In the end they settled back onto his lap again.

“I don’t understand,” Link began. What could he do about this? Ghirahim was practically a,  _ sword _ , wasn’t he. Link wasn’t a smith or craftsman, all this time he’d left almost all of that to Gondo.

“Let me  _ finish _ ,” Ghirahim snarled. 

Link flinched and promptly closed his mouth. It’s true that he usually didn’t interrupt Ghirahim's monologues. Though the truth was Ghirahim had simply said it more harshly than intended, fatigue draining him. By the time he continued speaking his voice was back to it’s calm, though strained, quality.

“I told you I have experienced some issues with my memory already. Sometime after -- Demise -- was defeated I woke up and, I don’t know how much time had passed but oh,” Ghirahim released his hold and let his skin gradually meld back into the pale grey of his natural complexion, deciding he’d made his point with that. He let out a laboured breath. Not worth wasting energy on for longer than necessary. 

“Oh, how dreadful it was. Discovering that I’d lost all the progress with my form, not knowing why or how,” he continued as his breath slowly calmed down. “I was distraught to find that my core had been damaged in such a crude way. I would simply not let this, be!” 

Link watched in odd fascinating as Ghirahim’s sturdy skin closed around the folded cracks, closing the open wound so much faster and seamlessly than it had taken to expose it, returning to it’s dormant state. 

Ghirahim shifted his eyes towards him and Link leaned back in unease. For unknown reasons, Ghirahim beckoned a small amount of the fire to fly over to them, holding a private dancing performance between the two of them. Thunder could be heard from outside and the tiny flame danced to the rhythm of nature.

Maybe it was a distraction. Maybe Ghirahim was, uncomfortable, with revealing something that seemed so intimate.

“So I went to search for this book of spells, hoping for if not a remedy for my core then at least something for my memories,” Ghirahim said as they regarded the small flame doing a pirouette. “Turns out it held nothing about cognitive issues, and only some cryptic texts regarding my core.”

“What I managed to make readable is just a handful of sentences, and just recently a spell of some sort. What I know is that I need a heart, which you already know, but for exactly what purpose or how to utilize it the fickle book doesn’t say. The only hint is ‘ _ The unloving heart weeps for someone to love _ ’. Now, through hours of interpretation I figured I somehow need a heart, and where would a demon get a heart? Amongst the humans, of course.”

Link sharply inhaled. Ghirahim wouldn’t dare. Except, -- Link swallowed, thinking it over -- he totally would.

“I probably shouldn’t reveal this but my options are decreasing. See, sky child, I went up to your little settlement.”

Link clenched his hand into fists. See? Ghirahim actually went ahead and scanned his people like livestock. 

“But sadly none of them resonated with me, their dull beats so boring. Even your precious goddess in the flesh was wrong. And now I can feel myself getting weaker by the moment. My core will shatter if nothing is done. I will cease to exist. Do you understand? I don’t have long. And I don’t wish to perish prematurely because of some second-rate curse.” 

The little flame between them reflected in the deep brown of Ghirahim’s irises as he looked at Link. “However, it seems I still have some hope.” Ghirahim gestured vaguely towards Link. “And so you come into the picture. I thought for sure you would scurry off to your dear goddess, but your naive self is always so full of surprises, agreeing to help me on the spot like you did.”

Link couldn’t maintain eye-contact at that. He tried not to think about how hasty he’d been. Ghirahim seemed to hesitate to continue when Link broke eye contact, but began to speak again quickly enough.

“What I, concluded after sampling information and discoveries from here and there, was that I need a pure energy alongside my own to stitch myself back together. I never would have guessed it, but I my own intuition seems to be just that good. I’m talking of course about the string of fate binding us together, since that pure energy I need is none other than yours, Link.”

Link was speechless. He had no control over his expression, caught up in the changing moods of Ghirahim’s story telling. He must look ridiculous for sure. 

“I wish I could tell you more but that book doesn’t reveal much. It’s like it has a mind of its own, and a prickly one at that.” Ghirahim sighed dramatically, bringing a hand to massage his forehead.

Link waited a moment, letting Ghirahim’s many words sink in before he spoke himself. Although his response wasn’t much.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghirahim smiled through lingering exertion. “Oh, silly sky child. There’s no need for you to apologize. You didn’t cause this.”

He didn’t? Link brightened and exhaled in relief. This was a later injury then, that’s a good thing. “So you healed from the damage I caused then. That’s great news, I thought you had endured that ever since way back then.”

Ghirahim scoffed in confusion. “What are you twaddling about, I never exposed my core to you for you to be able to harm it.”

“Eh?” Link blinked up at Ghirahim, his former foe. He tilted his head. “You mentioned that you didn’t remember much but, you don’t remember that?”

“Eh?” Ghirahim returned the bewildered sentiment. 

Both stilled for a moment. The crackling of slowly combusting wood and the dancing light in-between them the only things disinterested enough to keep on their usual atmosphere.

Finally, Ghirahim's eyes gradually widened, his pupils getting thinner the more brightness hit it from the fireplace. The tiny flame between them twitched, spasmed and vanished into quick puff of smoke. Ghirahim’s demeanor darkened, the sick weight of realization sinking in, old memories resurfacing. Without the playful light it had offered, Ghirahim’s face, cast in harsh darkness from the fire in the furnace, instead of his usual pristine face, truly looked like it belonged to a true demon. 

The well-known sense of the air getting heavier to inhale, sights harder to see, the room itself caving a little from the pressure hit Link. He, for the moment forgetting Ghirahim’s affliction and truly weakened state, clenched his hands on his knees, swallowing while he checked the exits. 

“You mean to tell me…  _ You  _ caused this?  _ You,  _ made me lose  _ everything _ , I worked for?  _ You,  _ weakened me so that during the crucial moment in my existence, I could not do what I needed to?! What a tasteless joke. This isn’t funny, skychild. This isn’t funny at all.” 

Ghirahim’s white bangs cast a crude shadow across his eyes. A shaking hand reached for the patched skin where his core had protruded mere minutes ago.  _ No no he’s already decided not to mess this up he can’t let it all go to waste now! So stay, calm. _ “You really enjoy testing my patience.”

“I-” Link leaned forward.

“No. Be quiet, for a moment.” Ghirahim raised his arm in a ‘halt’ motion towards Link, and massaged his forehead.  _ Stay the fuck calm. _ “I need, a moment.”

As they both fell quiet again, the crackling of fire once more took center stage, filling the empty air with twitching vibrations. Time ticked by, slowly. The echo of the ever heavier downpour thundered through the once-great castle. The heavy air wavered, light flickered, and softly, slowly, regained peace and harmony.

The heavy rise and fall of Ghirahim's chest was all Link could focus on for a moment. He could never get used to silence when it came to Ghirahim. It just didn’t fit. Link looked down at himself and started to feel weird about the cape around his shoulders and took it off, threading it over his head. Replacing it with the patched blanket instead, the one with the red thread. 

The odd shape of it left him a bit perplexed as to how to go about it but Link decided to fold the cape as best he could. He held the bundle rested on his lap, glancing to the corner of his eye. 

Ghirahim didn’t notice, staring at his own thighs, holding a hand protectively over his chest. Link opened his mouth and took a breath. He would take a chance that it might be alright to talk by now.

“I am sorry. I am.” 

Ghirahim showed no sign as to even having heard Link’s words. Link cleared his throat, swallowed, and continued. 

“I didn’t actually want to hurt you, never to that extent, but, I had to. And it would be a lie if I said I regret it. Since I don’t. I can’t. There was, too much pressure to do otherwise, too far along the road with too little time to find a different way.” 

How could he have? Link thought. Despite how he had  _ felt  _ for Ghirahim, pitched against his childhood friend and the fate of the world it was obvious what took precedence. His friend, Zelda, the world, Skyloft. He couldn’t bring himself to give it up, to change direction so far along the road. He’d been trapped. 

He was, trapped.

Link clenched the fabric and stood up and pattered over to Ghirahim in his mended socks. Link reached out a hand, pausing, but let it nudge at Ghirahim's shoulder to get his attention. 

“Put it back on, you’re cold, right?” 

No response. Link thought about what to say.

”Think about what your Demise would have said seeing you crumble like this. And, though I don’t share your opinion, I know you hold deep respect for your master-”

Ghirahim snatched his head up and fiercely glared. Or, it had looked like a glare at first glance. Were his eyes red-rimmed? A bit shining?

“ _ He is not my master. _ ” 

The panicked sound of Ghirahim’s voice clawing through his throat sent scared bugs scurrying into the cracks on the floor and rocks and pebbles fell from the already kind of unstable walls surrounding them. The volume was low enough, but the tone was what did it. Link himself almost jerked back from surprise. 

“You are giving me a headache with all this, sky child,” Ghirahim muttered quietly to himself as he leaned forward once more, clutching at his chest. He repeated as his nails bluntly dug into his skin, staring emptily at the floor between their feet. “He is  _ not _ , my master.” 

The metallic hiss of the cloak dispersing caressed Link’s eardrums and the red fabric lightened from Link’s hands, falling instead around Ghirahim’s pale grey form where it belonged. Link regarded the bent slope of Ghirahim's neck, how hair met skin and the knobbly beginning of his spine was visible before it disappeared under the cloak.

“Okay.” Link patiently replied, standing steady on his feet in front of the demon, his gaze determined and solid. 

The wild weather kept thundering, the finicky flames kept burning, sounds filling the silence until it was full with the comfortable ballad of nature, lulling them both into lowering their guards, physical and philosophical both. 

Unprompted by nothing else than his own inspiration, Link raised one of his arms, fitting his hand warmly on Ghirahim’s head. Ghirahim didn’t flinch, but his shoulders drew together slightly. It reminded him a bit of a startled kikwi, but Link wouldn’t say that. 

Not yet being impaled where he stood, and being someone who made a living from pushing his luck, Link began gingerly moving his thumb and fingertips, petting and stroking the carefully placed fine hairs, allowing the warm weight of his hand to rest comfortably on the rounded shape of Ghirahim’s crown. It felt surreal, how comfortable he was with doing this. 

To someone who’s supposed to be not only a stranger, but an enemy.

A dangerous fiend. 

A demon. 

“He is not your master,” Link murmured in confirmation, quietly letting the words fall from his lips. 

Although Ghirahim exhaled at that, shoulders lowering and softly relaxed his eyelids, he did question Link’s actions.

“What, do you think you’re doing?” he said.

“I’m helping you, like I promised to,” Link easily replied. 

The rain continued it rhythmic disarrayed thrumming. 

After a split second of stunned silence Ghirahim deeply huffed, but he did nothing to prevent Link’s hand from staying on his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anooother chapteeer! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و I don't have a lot to say. I think this one's cute. I wanted them to have some peace and quiet together for once.  
> Once again I've added at the total chapter count, there's at least a few chapters left. I think. :P  
> Thank you for the positive feedback! All the kudos and comments, I <3 you guys! If you want I'll be posting some fanart for this story on a new side-tumblr I made under the same username: casv98. Check it out if you want!  
> ...If you see any typos or have some constructive feedback or something feels unclear, feel free to tell me :)
> 
> See you with the next chapter!


	7. Blooming Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda debut.
> 
> !!This chapter was taken down and is now up again, revised! If you read the previous version I recommend a second read-through now, as a lot of changes has been made!!

Time passed. The warmth radiating from the fire warmed Link’s back, casting a shielding shadow over the demon within such dangerously short range. Light still managed to spill around him and hit the inhumanly pale being that was Ghirahim. If Link hadn’t been touching him, the trick of light might have made him believe that Ghirahim wasn't more tangible than a ghost.

The rain subsided, the skies cleared, and with it the hypnotic lull of the still moment they shared faded. As they stood and sat in stillness and contemplation, gently the weight of tired exhaustion made itself known to the both of them, laying itself heavy on their shoulders as careful rays of sunlight tiptoed their way around the edges of emptied spots of clouds, stretching in through the small windows of the basement.

“Stop.” Ghirahim guided Link’s hand away. Link let him do it, feeling no ill-will in the action. “Look at us, two idiots trading sob stories, whining over their pasts.” Ghirahim shifted in his seat, almost desperate to change focus. “Well now that you know, do you have any questions? Inquiries? Wonders?”

Link thought for a while, mind slow after the many hours he’s been awake, with so many bewildering revelations and experiences gained in such a short time frame. Ghirahim huffed, going for a tease when Link was slow to reply.

“Oh skychild, remind me why I go making deals with children.”

“I’m not a child,” Link protested, bringing his hands up to, in a contradictory very  
childlike manner, attempt to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Really now?” Ghirahim offered an incredulous look. They were back to their usual meaningless back-and-forth. The corners of Link’s lips moved into a tired smile. What would Zelda think about this ridiculous interaction.

Link’s eyes, bloodshot and warm, widened, realizing the weight of his thought. _Zelda_.

“They can’t know about this,” Link said in a hurry, the words spilling from his tongue with him staring meaningfully into Ghirahim’s eyes. “I mean, about you. Zelda would order  
you dead. And I know you’re clever enough to figure out who would have to execute that particular type of order, since slaying a demon requires especially holy equipment.” Link’s face warmed before he said,  “And I don’t want that.”

Ghirahim, slightly taken aback by the sudden focus in Link’s piercing eyes, answered coolly  
once his posture was regained. “Yes, fine, sky child. I’ll let you hide me like some smuggled snack. I’d rather not be impaled on your _blade of evil’s bane_. Not that I’d let you go at it as easily as you might think you could.” Ghirahim laughed airily.

Link wrinkled his brow, blinking to keep the dryness of his eyes away, wanting to believe  
Ghirahim's words while his gut told him otherwise. He pressed his teeth together, hoping Ghirahim was right.

“I’m fine regarding what you need me for.” Link put the conversation back on track. “I’ll  
just stick around you right? But I do wonder some things.”

“Go ahead then.” Ghirahim gestured for him to speak, leaning back into the couch, stretching a long arm over the backrest. The fire in the fireplace had begun to die, the wood slowly turning into ashes. Still it glowed faintly, some embers gasping for life.

“The energy you talked about, will it drain me?” Link prompted sleepily.

“Probably not,” Ghirahim responded while turning over his hand as if checking his nails. Odd thing to do, Link thought, since his gloves were still on. Ghirahim’s mood swings never failed to bewilder him, how his interest could fade so quickly.

Link thought hard about what to ask next. “Will, whatever it is, take more than energy, like taking my own memories to replace yours?”  Magic and spells and things like that, he never really learned about how it worked. To be honest, even when going after the Triforce had he just done what said was needed, without much further thought of what _exactly_ he was doing. What forces he might have stirred. Link sludged over to the couch and dropped himself into the cushions, curling up, the blanket around his shoulders not big enough to cover his feet.

“Not likely”, Ghirahim answered while pretending not to observe Link steadily drooping  
frame.

“How far away from you can I go, for it to still work?” Link’s words were fluffed on a  
yawn.

Ghirahim narrowed his eyes. He measured his answer, just in case. “I don’t know, that is…I am not sure about the exact distance. Might be less, might be more. Not that there is any need for finding out, don’t you think?”

Link nodded, struggling to keep his eyes open. “...Alright,“ he mumbled around another yawn.

Ghirahim propped up his elbow and leaned his chin on his hand. How curious, humans  
really were so vulnerable, letting their guard down the moment they think themself safe.

Safe, huh. Ghirahim tilted his head, regarding the slack jaw of Link’s relaxed face. Link obviously felt safe around him, logically then he also trusted him, to some extent. Ghirahim’d reached that far in his plan already. Well, that was remarkably easy now that he thought about it. No advanced contract, no bloodpact or mutual failsafe. Ghirahim had only paid in refraining from his admittedly rude habits, and -- by revealing some painfully intimate facts, oh gods. Ghirahim pressed a hand down his face. He’d revealed so _much._ Was he incapable of controlling his own tongue? And what did he get in term of leverage on Link, nothing but this simple _trust._

Although… Ghirahim looked back at Link’s sleeping form, the tenseness in his face and shoulders smoothened out as he slept. Link’s hands, scarred and blunt, held the blanket in place around him. Ghirahim had to admit that the open display of trust was endearing, even cute. It was something you never saw back amongst the demon tribe. Everyone was so paranoid all the time. But, well, Ghirahim supposed it was justified when the way to gain rank was to kill. He would know. Being a Lord and all.

“What cruel thought made the thread of fate decide to knot and twist us together, hm?” Ghirahim said to himself, knowing well his question would fall upon deaf ears of both the sleeping boy in front of him and any higher powers. Ghirahim grunted through a momentary ache in his chest, but unbeknownst to him this one had nothing to do with his curse. “A trick of bad taste played on both of us,” he said quietly through a wistful smile.

“...’m …… ou…” Link’s own quiet reply was lost in the tired movement of his lips. Ghirahim jerked up, had he heard him? But Link kept up his light snore and Ghirahim relaxed, he was still asleep. Ghirahim exhaled in a short huff. He scooched over towards Link, testily bumping his nose. No reaction. Ghirahim dipped his head with a hopeless sort of laugh. How had this boy managed to render a demon such as himself, so utterly useless?

Ghirahim leaned down and placed his left hand as a support on Link’s lower back. He took a moment, eyes closed, to twist and weave some extra energy before he whispered the small enchantment necessary for a two-man teleportation. The clicks of magic and diamonds gently carried them to the soft edge of a bed mattress. Ghirahim laid the both of them back on the warm blankets that Ghirahim’s lair offered. He hoped Link wouldn’t make a fuss when he wakes up realizing he was back in Ghirahim’s mansion. Being a gentleman, Ghirahim made sure there was a proper distance between the two of them before he adjusted his cape to cover as much as it could of their bodies before he, too, let his eyes close.

~~~

Ghirahim couldn’t sleep.

He’d managed to get _some_ shut eye, but that was before a certain sky child cuddled up to him with that (frustratingly pleasant) weight of Link’s head on his chest, and the hot touch (and annoyingly securing feel) of Link’s heavy palm on his arm. That odd closeness, that solid weight -- Ghirahim could not remain still. His pulse was all over the place. How Link was able to sleep so soundly like this was beyond him. Ugh, somehow not even the energy that trickled out was enough to still Ghirahim’s restlessness.

Finally Ghirahim couldn’t take it anymore and jumped outside. A small walk would help  
grease up his joints and relax his nerves, surely. As gravel crunched under his feet, a small weight of hesitation lingered on his shoulders. No, Ghirahim thought, pushing his shoulders back and lifting his chin to the dark blue sky, he was being overly cautious. He would only be gone for a few moments, and Link was perfectly capable to _sleep_ on his own. He had even been as thoughtful as to replace his cape over Link’s body with a fluffy, thick blanket to fight the cold before he left.

Ghirahim began trudging through the nearby grove, oblivious to the shadows hidden in the safety of the dark, about to breach Ghirahim’s usually well-guarded base.

~~~

“Take him while he’s still asleep.”

Link grumbled in his sleep. _Take..? Wha...Can’t they keep it down…_ Drunk with sleep, he tried to shake it off, muttering some alien mumbo-jumbo, asking whoever or whatever it was to just let him sleep in some more.

But a tight grip soon crushed around his bicep and Link’s eyes startled open and he jerked up. Newly awake, Link, with the chaotic focus of an ambushed remlit, frantically scanned his surroundings, his hair flicking left and right with the motions. Tall figures, their shadows stretching up on the walls, _people_ stood surrounding him. Clad in heavy boots, thick gloves, belt loops, durable chainmail. Carrying pouches, ropes. Shields. Swords. _Knights, they were knights_.

More hands reached out to grab him, some bringing earlier noted rope. Link grunted as he struggled to get loose from their clutches, and despite their overwhelming numbers compared to the one person of Link, Link only increased his efforts. He couldn’t make out much in the darkness of the dim basement -- _wait_.

Link’s so far well-contained panic bloomed into something more. _This wasn’t the basement. Where was he?_ He felt the soft fabric around him. He recalled a faint memory of Ghirahim's red cape being placed over him -- _where was it now, Ghirahim_ \-- Link looked around himself once more. _Where was Ghirahim._

Link wasn’t allowed time to still his disorientation. The strangers grabbed at him with full force. Link struggled in their tight grips and moving forms and ended up closely face to face with one of them.

He recognized the freckle spotted skin and the blue eyes so alike his own. Eyes belonging to one he’d looked up to as Link assumed you would to an older brother. His voice caught in a confused gravelly yelp in his throat, coming out inteligible, as he was faced with a nightmare. Pipit. It was _Pipit,_ who met Link’s confused expression with a bland expression of his own.

“The Goddess is upset with you. Come quietly and it might not get worse.” Pipit’s voice  
was a far cry from the energetic and proud quality it usually carried.

Shocked, Link stopped fighting back. He broke through his adrenaline induced  
muteness, each syllable scratching its way out. “Hey, Pip, what’s-” Link winced, harsh rope scratched into his skin. “What’s happening-? Why are you doing this?”

Pipit didn’t reply, none of the knights did. Pipit looked away to one of the others and nodded. They started taking Link along with them. Link observing them, but he couldn’t stop. They looked so off, so not alike themselves. Too disciplined. Too perfect.

They took him outside where some sort of transport awaited. Link’s eyes widened as he took in what powered the carriage, which, looked more like a cage.

“What are these creatures, what have you done to the Loftwings?!” Link cried out.

“You will answer to the Goddess once we get back to the city.” Their voices rang like a haunted choir, chanting the focus of their will.

“You keep mentioning Zelda -- I’ll go with you already _stop_ dragging me -- why is she--” Eyes snapped towards him.

“How _dare_ you speak the holy name of the Goddess. Only the most loyal will she deign to allow using it. And according to our commander, you are _not one of them._ ” It was Pipit again, his upper lip tense in a sneer. The most loyal to the code of the academy, the most loyal to honor and rightfulness, grown to be a great knight by the time Link left for the surface permanently. Now he loomed over Link's huddled form, grimacing disapprovingly. The hatred and genuine promise of pain visible in Pipit’s eyes shook Link to the core. Pipit was like family, his only family. For him to look and talk and act at him like that -- Link suppressed a sniffle.

After that, Link quietly went along with them, mentally subdued from the abandonment of his brother in spirit. He was ushered into the carriage and he voiced no further complaint or question for the remainder of the way. Wherever the end-destination was to be.

As the carriage rocked back and forth, swept up in gales and air pockets, with Link squeezed between the ironclad bodies flanking both sides of him in the cramped space, he couldn’t help but find a small relief in the confusing mess. Ghirahim had been and was nowhere to be seen. He must have grown tired of Link’s company and left him forsaken in an unknown place. Who knows, maybe the energy he spoke of collecting was already enough. Link closed his eyes and sent a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for allowing him a chance to mend some of his past shortcomings to Ghirahim. That Ghirahim was still a secret to his enemies and that this time, his former nemesis would be the one who was safe from peril.

~~~~

_What in the seven circles of--_

It was utter chaos. As Ghirahim stepped out into the opening chamber his brisk steps slowly waned to a halt. Pillows were strewn uncaringly around the bed. Blankets and pieces of  
both fancier cloth (his own) and simple but warm pieces of fabric (Link’s, obviously) laid in heaps on the floor.

“Link!” Ghirahim called ahead, hoping, _hoping,_ his first conclusion was terribly wrong. “I’m  
aware it got late last night, however you should really wake up now, it’s past noon, you can’t seriously still be--” he said as he stepped down the stairs, turning an eye to a fluffy, thick blanket that had somehow moved this far from the mattress. “--asleep…” The room wavered in anticipation as he placed his steps forward.

“Link.” Ghirahim again testily voiced to the room. “...Link.”

Ghirahim stepped forward, dreading to confirm what he already in his very core knew to  
be true. The walls too held their breath in fear. Ghirahim threw the remaining blankets on the bed away with an angry swipe of a glowing hand. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He should have known not to leave him. He should at least have known to return as soon as his ailments started acting up when he was out, that insistent creak in his neck and his sore chest. Ghirahim harsly stroked his hands along his neck, face and up into his hair. Now he reaped the results of his actions, the result of his blindness; no matter how intently he scanned the room, the results were the same: Link was nowhere to be found.

Even worse, the signs of struggle were too apparent for it to be a willing escape, no. Ghirahim shook his head in disbelief. This was a kidnapping. _But who would..?_

~~~~

Link blinked, trying to see through the sudden brightness blearing his vision when they finally opened the dim carriage. The buzzing and murmurs that broke out as he was pushed out made it difficult to place the muffled voices of the other knights. He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, and was confused when he couldn’t. Right. Restraints.

“So, you finally returned. Late and tardy as always.” Red eyes dispassionately looked  
down at Link, eyes half lidded. Impa stood with her arms crossed, her strangely as ever cut cloak hanging from her shoulder.

Link wasn’t surprised to see her in his time, when he was still frequently updated he’d heard that Impa made trips through the Gate to support Zelda’s rule in the skies, but -- he couldn’t  understand her venomous tone. Link’d thought they’d buried their hatchets long ago. Especially after he’d timed his arrival perfectly, saving both Zelda _and_ Impa from Ghirahim, back when he was a threat, allowing them to escape through that first Gate of Time. Thinking about it now made it feel like such a long time ago, yet also like it was as late as yesterday.

“Impa,” Link said, blowing a strand of hair from his eyes, voice weak, trying for a calm and diplomatic tone despite the turmoil. “How are things? Where’s Zelda?”

“Zelda need not be concerned with the likes of _you_ . Not as you are now, fallen and disgraced.” Impa paused, sneering at him. “But she _is_ requesting your presence.” She jerked her head at the guards. They tightened their grip on Link and dragged him through the plaza, alongside the expanded bazaar, towards the Throne Keep. Link hadn’t been around to see it be completed, but he saw it now in the not so far distance.

Skyloft looked surprisingly similar as to when he left. The children were a bit older, a bit taller. Kukiel ran happily from one green plant to the next, racing through the town. A horde of parents out to wash in the clear weather blocked the bridge in their crusade to the stream, chatting amongst themselves. Peatrice’s and her father's loud arguing voices streamed through the walls of their home -- she seemed to want to move out. Everything looked peaceful. Happy. Link felt a small bit of his heavy chest lighten, seeing them all safe.

But he couldn’t help the sense of melancholy resignation that people moved on, people went on with their lives and were happily unaware of the sacrifices made to keep it that way. He would never wish his pain upon someone else, but at the same time he couldn’t help  
the burning thought of ‘ _why me, to bear the burden of being tricked to offer my existence for them? I had only wanted to save,_ you, _Zelda… I was hardly noble enough to bear the responsibility of saving all of them .'_  

The group marched onward, Link crowded in the middle. They made their way up the now  
solidified wooden stairs to the Throne Keep. They had made use of the empty spot where the Goddess statue had been. Link guessed the one proposing the idea saw it fitting to replace a fake goddess with a real one. They halted in what Link assumed was some sort of greeting hall where the parents and students could come and talk and voice their issues to the Goddess. To Zelda. And soon enough, Zelda herself revealed her presence.

The clicks of her modest heels echoed in the large chamber and Link’s eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight of her. In the short, but at the same time very long, time he’d been away, Zelda had grown into a commanding presence. Divine yes, beautiful of course, but most of all so very commanding. Instinct, not learned behaviour, made Link twitch his neck down in a forced display of respect from just her presence. He glanced around him, noticing that some of his entourage had even gone down on their knees before bowing their necks towards the floor. Link struggled a bit, but managed to lift his head again and keep it up.

“Hello, Link.” Zelda’s voice was clear as pearls, dancing through the air like song.

Link looked her in the eyes. “Hi, Zel.” He fought the horrible urge to address her with her title. They were childhood friends for goddesses sake. “It’s… been a while.”

“Indeed it has, our Hero.” Zelda had the audacity to blush as she said that and Link frowned. Zelda delicately cleared her throat. “Many moons have passed since you last met our people.” Link grimaced. _Our people?_ Zelda didn’t notice his face and carried on. “You know  
we always, we mean, _Zelda_ always, ah…” She closed her eyes in a moment of frustration. “ _I_ always loved how free spirited and untamed you are...” She trailed off, lost in some fond memory judging by the reminiscing smile on her face. It faded into a hardened mask once she spoke again. “But I have allowed you enough time to play by now, don’t you think? Won’t  you come back here, Link. Back home.”

Link sighed. How many times would they need to have this conversation? “No. I  
won’t come back, Zel.”

A guard taking offence at Link resistance and clearly informal language yanked at the chains around his ankles making Link lose balance and go down on a knee. Link grunted as he felt the smack of his knee cap smash into the marble floor. Zelda smiled patiently, making a creep crawl across Link’s spine.

“Oh, Link. But of course you will. You might not realize it yet but we are meant to be together. Destined to meet again and again, and as one force rule and lead our people. It’s written in the legends. It’s unchangeable.” Zelda spoke with the confidence of one who would have experienced what she spoke of first hand.

Link felt his heart harden once again towards his friend. _Why wouldn’t she listen?_ “I will make my own destiny, alright. I played my part in Hylia’s, in your, plan. Now it’s time for my own plans, my own path. You know that. I thought you had finally accepted and moved on when I didn’t hear from you.”

Zelda gracefully dipped her chin, her golden locks, glowing faintly with divinity, swaying. The fine strands spilled over her shoulders while she spoke in a sombre tone filled by self-pity. “I accepted that you needed time, Link. But you’ve been given enough. The people cannot wait.”

Link thought back on the people he’d seen while walking up the path to the smaller palace. The fed faces, the playing children. The plentiful decorations and activities. Abundance of food. “I think they look happy enough under just your rule…” Link let his thoughts race for the split second his pause allowed him, making his decision. “So I wish to resign my title of protector of them.”

Zelda gasped and Link bowed, offering his final respects-- Zelda raised a delicate hand to  
cover her face to hide her shock and sadness. “Please, Link. Won’t you reconsider? You, you won’t be allowed to return. Ever.” Zelda said, struggling to hide the wobble in her  
voice. “It’s not something I, can revoke.” Zelda was a goddess. She, _they_ , were Hylia. And Link was their subject, like everyone else. The same rules apply to him as anyone else. No special treatment. Meaning, through Link’s decision to desert and never be allowed to return, Zelda would lose her connection to her mortality that she had maintained through Link.

Link remained in his bow. “I am afraid not, your royal Grace. I have made my decision.”

Zelda looked deep in thought. “Link, I have something I haven’t told you. I didn’t want to alarm you but in light of your thought process I must let you know. It’s, partly the reason why you were summoned. Why we need you to stay put, here.” Link couldn’t help but sneer at her choice in words.

 _Summoned_ ? If that was being summoned he was afraid to ever be sought after for some sort  
of crime. Still, he took the bait and asked. “I am all ears, your royal Grace.”

Zelda walked up to Link and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, letting the flowy weight of it rest there. “I’ve sensed disturbance in the air.” Zelda’s fingers bunched up Link's shirt as they clenched. “A demonic power that was waning for a long time is suddenly steadily getting stronger. I fear that it is...” Zelda hiccuped, the prospect of what she was about to reveal painting distress on her face. “That self-proclaimed demon lord. That-- that _Ghirahim_.”

Link’s eyes widened. _Shit._ He didn’t dare move, fearing if he twitched even an inch he might reveal what he knew to the ever observant person he grew up with.

At Link’s statue-like state Zelda poured herself down and draped her arms around the back of Link neck, the billowing fabric of the arms of her white tunic fluttering around them. “Oh Link, I know that it’s frightening.” She spoke with a rattled, but somehow soothing voice. “Who knows what that _thing_ plans to do. But you don’t worry.” Zelda leaned back and threaded her fingers through a section of Link’s hair hanging and concealing  
his face, pushing it behind the curved and pointed end of his ear. When she gently cupped the side of Link’s face and tilted it up to lock their gazes, he remembered when he thought Ghirahim had been about to do the same, that time after his run-in with Sheik. “I won’t let it harm you. It’s my turn to protect you now.”

Link shivered at her touch, he couldn’t help comparing it to Ghirahim. He found himself shying away from Zelda even more as Ghirahim's concerned expression popped up in his mind. He studied the determined glint in the blue irises in front of him, the subtle but fierce stoutness of her otherwise gentle expression. The little dip in her cheek, the creak in her smile, a frown pulled at his brow and Link realized she knew far more than she let on.

Link turned his head away from her cupped hand. Zelda twitched as if pricked by a needle, but didn’t protest. She slowly gathered her hands in front of her when they no longer touched and kept that gentle smile on. It was frightening. Link abruptly rose, the rope around him squeezed around his torso and his chains whined and rattled in complaint. “You make it sound like I am in danger, your Grace. If that is the case then I should promptly leave--”

Link froze as his back collided against something solid. He turned his head back to spot  
soldiers blocking his path. He swept his eyes over the room, spotting more soldiers approaching and slowly surrounding them. To any other citizen it wouldn’t have seemed strange, this amount of guards. They needed to protect their goddess if there truly was a demon on the rise, but Link knew perfectly well that, by now, having plenty of time to adjust into her mortal divinity, Zelda was far from helpless. She had less than no need for guards. But lackeys, that was another story. Why would she dirty her own hands when others were glad to do it in her stead?

Zelda motioned for Impa to join her side. Impa walked over, knelt down and took one of Zelda’s hands into her own, giving the back of it a light kiss. “There’s no need for that, Link,” Zelda assured. “Your presence here will be much needed in dealing with the demon.”

A blue orb was thrown Link’s way and exploded in his face. He coughed through the dusty  
mist of it, turning away his face to shy away as much as he could. However he inhaled too much, and barely managed to register the numbness of his skin before the gas kicked in and immobilized him fully. He was powerless as they took him away at the wave of Impa’s hand, the blurring image of Zelda merely hanging back in the growing distance, clinging onto Impa’s arm. Link tried to argue and even shout through the gag they put on him but all that  
came out was a muffled string of grunts and winces. Pipit -- _no, his captor_ \-- paid Link not a sliver of his mind throughout his struggles.

Realizing they were leading him to dark cells, underground judging by the dampness, Link  doubled his efforts. But they threw him behind bars soon enough and Link was enveloped in pitch black darkness, the small sliver of light from the corridor gone with the slam of the stone door.

Without chains and arms holding him Link slumped down, fingers slipping on the spongy and freezing cold algae and moss on the uneven stone. Shakily, he backed up until he hit a slanted wall. _How did it come to this?_ He pressed his back flat against it, letting the curve of his head also press against the wall. The steady feel of it reminded him of something sturdy he had leaned against while he fell asleep after his talk with Ghirahim. The thought helped, but the chilly touch dispelled the similarities. The split ends of Link’s hair tickled his skin, sensitive from adrenaline. Link counted the seconds as he _inhaled, exhaled… inhaled… exhaled…_ He closed his eyes so he could at least pretend he was somewhere he wasn’t. Somewhere where the sky was visible, somewhere with trees and birds and he could stretch out his limbs without them touching. Somewhere bright, with light air easy to breathe in and out.

Somewhere calm and mundane, with the company of a pale demon who was anything but that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This was a trip to write. My method of getting a chapter together really isn't optimal haha ^^; But it's here! If I haven't responded to your comment yet know that I have read it and I appreciate it very much!! 'Thank you' will never feel enough to show you my gratitude of your continued support!
> 
> Well then, hope you enjoy!
> 
> (I guess they didn't get to just /be/ for very long... Oh well happiness comes and goes lol)
> 
> Share your thoughts? :)


	8. The Villain: A Hero, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link has been taken. Ghirahim will not let that be a continued state of things.

_Where is he?_

Ghirahim tore through the air, a red and white blur in the dull, grey forest. His lungs burned for rest, but he couldn’t afford to stop with the glimmering path flickering in and out of focus under his feet. At times it disappeared in full, erasing all trace of Link. At those moments a haunting dread clawed and poked at Ghirahim’s insides, screeching at him that it was over, that the spell had ran out of gas along with any prospect of ever finding Link again– But then it would flicker back into sight. And Ghirahim couldn’t give less food to his foolish thoughts, once more steeling himself to move forward, to push his aching limbs ahead.

Ghirahim knew first-hand how not-helpless Link was on his own, having battled him many, many times, but because of that, the terrible feeling he had of the sky child being far from safe–it was made even worse. Like a gooey blob of thick oil it stuck deep down his throat, accompanied by dull throbbing paining his chest.

Ghirahim snarled, charging forward. _Where is he?!_

Distracted, a root–nature’s snare–hooked itself around Ghirahim’s foot. He lost his balance, falling heavily onto moggy leaves and moss, his once white gloves now dirtied by mud. Hair in his eyes he grumbled, pushing himself up and freeing his foot. Not to waste a moment, Ghirahim went to charge ahead again, but faltered when he placed weight on his twisted ankle. _Shit._

He dragged himself forward, halting as best he could. He rested with a hand on a fallen tree. Something nagged at his attention and he leaned down, spotting an earth cave laid obstructed under the trunk. Stashes of weapons, and nuts spilling out of an overfilled pouch, laid carefully to the side in the hideout. Ghirahim immediately recognized the red symbol on the daggers. _Sheikah. So it was that slippery bug who took Link._

In the same breath as his epiphany, Ghirahim felt something snake around his neck and he was tripped to the ground with a solid weight to his back. Metal flashed in his eye and a dagger, just like the ones hidden there in front of his eyes, was put to his throat. Gears turning, Ghirahim laughed. Dark and low, like a poisonous caress. “I have to thank you, sheikah, for sparing me the _tedious_ trouble of finding you.”

Ghirahim vanished from Sheik’s hold–not through magic, but pure skill. His technique, heightened with adrenaline and hurried by his _restricted amount_ of _time dammit,_ was so effortless even Sheik who was a considered a master in the art–a bested master now–was impressed. Less impressed was he however, with being forced to play defence in Ghirahim's stead. He grunted when a gloved hand slammed him into the nearest trunk, some magic used to hold his wrists and ankles in place. Once secured, Ghirahim let go of Sheik's throat and stepped back. He spun the dagger he’d confiscated between his fingers.

“I found your stash, what nifty little things you have… Tell me, where did you stash away my _sky child_?”

Sheik frowned behind his cowl. _What?_ “Link is not with you?” He looked down. “That’s not…”

Ghirahim observed Sheik's pondering expression, patience thinning. He stalked his way towards him, careful to hide his hurt ankle and how his sick body taxed his energy. He took a sharp breath, aiming for it to seem threatening and not merely the hiss of a weakling, induced by mere pain. “Listen here, I don’t have time for games. You,” Ghirahim pulled the dagger close to Sheik, “tell me where Link is, and I might let you keep your limbs.” The dagger pushed against Sheik's pinned arm, right where bicep met shoulder, harder and harder, until it cut deep enough through fabric and skin to give a sweet message. Sheik grit his teeth behind his cowl. “ _Now_ , would you be so kind _,”_ Ghirahim pressed.

Sheik looked up into Ghirahim’s eyes, dark with urgency. “I don’t have him, and if he’s not with you, then his location is a mystery to me.” Sheik deliberately looked the pale life form keeping him trapped up and down. “Judging by your rattled state, the situation must be grave. You shouldn’t waste time here on me.”

Ghirahim squinted, gauging the sheikah. Nothing about him this time seemed to be a scheme, no lie hid in the white of his eyes. “You’re different from last time. Am I dealing with an actor?” A drop of cold sweat ran along Sheik's back at that, but he relaxed when Ghirahim didn’t linger on that and continued after a moment's pause, “No matter. There’s good news for you, although the opposite for me... I believe that you do not have him.” The dagger left Sheik's shoulder with a dragging wet noise.

Sheik held back a shudder once the blade was out. He let his pain exit on a breath, asking his mind to let go of such personal thoughts, senses,and feelings. He was a warrior, a priest for the religion of the three goddesses, a guide for the chosen ones. He was not allotted time nor resources for such a selfish thing as a _self._ He forced himself to do what he was made to.

“If you let me,” Sheik said evenly, masking his fear, anger, frustration and most of all worry as best he could. Assaulting the demon had probably not been the wisest move, considering what he’d just learned, but he’d needed the demon lord, and still did. “I’ll assist with your quest. It’s something of a trade amongst my people. We excel at mystery, and a missing life is certainly one. If that’s not enough for a bargain, I can heal your ankle as well so you may hurry along.”

Ghirahim jerked, instinctively moving his injury further from the sheikah. How had he noticed? He grimaced, distrusting of the sudden showcase of amity and abnegation. “What?”

Sheik tilted his head, finding some humor in the demon’s mannerisms. “I understand your worry for Link, in light of current circumstances I’m worried too.”

Ghirahim looked away and scoffed, “As if I’m _worried_ for him he merely– that is he’s just–” Ghirahim searched frantically for a suitable word to describe what Link was to him. He startled as he felt warm fluffy words rise in his mind. He sent them away before they were allowed to fully take form and settle. Finally, he snapped, “He’s just a valuable asset.”

Sheik hummed meaningfully, with an indisputable glint in his eye. ”I see.”

Ghirahim curled his upper lip in distaste. He felt a blinding headache coming–Link needed to come back _now_ . He levelled himself at Sheik, once more brandishing the dagger, flipping it around his fingers. “I don’t trust you... but I guess I’m willing to strike a deal.” A harrowing smirk rose on his face. “You assist me in getting Link, and _I don’t kill you_. How’s that for terms?“

Still technically in chains, and in contrast to what would have been a more logical response, Sheik visibly relaxed. This sudden change was certainly unorthodox, but he would continue to guide the flow of events. It would be a bit more up close than usual, and with a creature a great deal off from usual participants, but Sheik could do it.

“Deal,” Sheik confirmed, and Ghirahim smiled.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said and immediately released his magic with a tired huff, dropping Sheik unceremoniously to the ground.

~~~~

The guards, or soldiers, came in once or twice a day, from what Link could tell from the times the room finally brightened with outside light, leaving pushed in meals under the bars. The guards were not allowed to speak to him expect for the questionings they had, asking him what the demon was scheming. They always received the same answer, that Ghirahim wasn’t planning anything, wasn’t dangerous, but that they needed to let him free. They were never content with that answer. They ignored Link no matter what else he did, be it asking for a candle or banging on the steel bars until his hands ached. If they were simply strict for their orders or plain hard-hearted, Link couldn’t tell.

Link sat in his corner counting the seconds, minutes, and then hours and possibly days. He’d mapped the little area he was trapped in within moments of first stepping foot in there, felt each surface with the rough palms of his hands, dragging his feet to feel the ground beneath him. He’d found a hole quickly enough, the width of his bicep. A faint rank smell came from it. _Toilet,_ he had with frightening ease deduced. His current life consisted of waiting for the stone door to move, granting him that short interlude of light. He wondered how long he’d been down there, alone, in the dark. Sometimes he would feel a presence in the dark, but it never revealed itself or hinted to what it was and he feared he was losing his mind.

“Hey, did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

Link pricked his ears. Some time had passed, and the two guards currently placed on watch must have grown bored. They were standing a little too close to the door of his cell, Link could hear their every breath with how unnecessarily loud they were. But the distraction was welcome. A comfort, in the ever present dark silence which was the sole offer to his solitude.

“About the two powerful statues down on the surface? Someone overheard the honourable Goddess giving out an order, saying they need to be destroyed.”

Link eyes widened, cupping a hand next to his ear. _What? Since when did Zelda–Hylia–destroy holy artefacts?_

“Apparently they’re called ‘Guardians’, weird name right. They’re statues, what can immobile objects _guard_.” The solder laughed at his own slow wit, armour rustling.

“Yeah, that’s strange.” The other sounded intrigued enough. “Did you hear what they do?”

Link could hear the clanking of an armoured shrug. “Someone said they channel some kind of, I don’t know, energy restoration force? Didn’t really understand it all.”

_Energy restoration? Energy… If that’s true then Ghirahim could maybe…_

The two guards continued their discussion, and Link learned that the two Guardians were considered to be powerful magical items created by Hylia, but now considered not fit to be of access to whoever would stumble upon them. One was allegedly on a frozen mountain top, and one buried in deep violent seas.

Link gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Why did it sound familiar…? He inhaled, hit with realisation. Sheik's words. _He’d talked about a steady ocean and a mountain top. Was this all connected?_ Link scanned the map in his head he had of the Surface. _Seas were gone in the present, so it had to be in past-Lanayru no doubt… But what was the other place?_ Link hadn’t really explored that much beyond the fastest routes to where he was asked and needed to go, and during that time he hadn't heard of someplace being “frozen”. Could there be even more to the surface than he assumed?

~~~~

Sheik and Ghirahim were stalking down the path Ghirahim had originally been on before stumbling over the sheikah. Sheik had conjured some blue magic to the demons ankle, with his life as Ghirahim’s insurance–a.k.a. a circle of daggers dancing around his neck–ready to pierce for the slightest suspicion. Ghirahim had tested his ankle fiercely, and with great attention to detail, before accepting that Sheik had stood by his word. The necklace of menacing red daggers shrank in size around Sheik at Ghirahim’s words, but didn’t dematerialize. Sheik glanced at the flickering red light they shone with, but didn’t comment.

“Good.” Ghirahim scanned the forest. “Seeing as you are capable of magic, I’ll have you transferring it to me while we go. You need not now the reason,” he added when Sheik's eyes narrowed, “Only that you are to do it.”

Sheik blinked at the shimmering black rope suddenly hovering between the demon and him. He swallowed. When had that gotten there? Something about it felt… wrong. Almost against nature. Ghirahim pointedly took a hold of the other end–with nothing happening, Sheik noted–throwing a meaning look at Sheik.

“I understand this magic is far above your paygrade, but don’t you worry your Goddess loving head. You’re valuable alive still. _Now grab it_ , or did you already forget our deal.” The daggers around his neck grew closer, he felt their pressure on his skin and Sheik pushed his instincts away and formed a fist around his end of the dark string. As soon as he’d tightened his hand enough, the string pulsed to life, vibrating strongly with a low thrum. Sheik managed to muffle a pained howl as the thrumming extended into his torso, into his chest. He felt it almost hook itself in place and as he moved to release himself from the dark string, he found that it was gone. Faded into nothing, yet the scraping feel in his chest told him that wasn’t the entire truth.

Ghirahim seemed unbothered by the tethering of the string, almost invigorated. He straightened and took a deep breath with closed eyes looking concentrated. A smile stretched on his face. “Ah, it’s stable again.” Sheik followed the demon’s line of sight, and spotted a trail of golden glimmers. So this was how the demon thought to find Link. Sheik was anxious of how the tethering between him and the demon would affect him later, but for now–he stifled a twinge–for now he would endure and follow the path before them, to reunite the fated ones once more.

~~~~

The soldiers either left or fell quiet, and without them there was little else for Link’s mind to focus on, leaving his mind to be preyed on by his own phantom scars once again. He’d tried to entertain his mind with the information he had for as long as he could, spinning clues and riddles in every which way, but in the dark it was difficult to sketch thought or formulate a visual plan.

Now, Link sat on the opposite side from the hole in the ground, braiding, twisting and spinning a lock of hair to keep himself occupied in the dark, to keep his mind from wandering into dangerous places, dangerous thoughts. Although damaged from poor care, his hair was fairly clean. They weren’t cruel enough to not allow him to bath once in a while. The food was also fairly rich and healthy. Link stomach grumbled. _They are late_ , he thought, feeling the split ends of a hair tuft.

When the hinges on the heavy door screeched, food-guard arriving at last, Link sighed in relief, blinking while relishing the tight feeling of his eyes adjusting to the burst of light. The guard entered the dungeon looking like a black mass, their shadow stretched long, all sense of colour and shape lost to Link’s sensitive eyes from the brightness around them. Link fought against his reflexes to clip his eyes shut, wanting to see as much as he could for the short interval he was allowed. He watched as the guard placed the steaming tray on the ground. Link expected him to leave quickly, just as the other ones had, but the guard who had finished their duty didn’t move towards the exit. Link squinted, trying to make out why they were hovering.

“Psst, Link...” a hushed voice called through the dark.

Link started a bit, unused to being addressed by the guards by name. He blinked, trying to hurry along the adjustment of his eyes. ...This soldier wasn’t dressed in the soldier’s armour, just a basic set of tunic and pants he realized. Hesitantly Link moved forward and grabbed one of the steel bars. “...Fledge? Is that you?”

The blurry shape of Fledge nodded. “I heard you were back, Link. But I could never imagine it would be like this… I have trouble believing the others, the rumours, I... had to ask you myself.” Fledge fiddled with his fingers, glancing sideways.

“Ask me what?” Link didn’t mind the extra light-time he’d been granted, he’d gladly answer any question if it meant more of that. Each moment the door was open, the more shapes and colours Link could see. First the damp colours of blue green and ocean grey, then, slowly, brighter hues grazed his retina. Mellow yellows, the strange grassy colour of Fledge’s hair and finally the deep orange of his tunic.

How he’d missed colours. He longed for the stark vision of a sunset, for the blaring sight of red fluttering in a still wind. And the dramatic commentary a certain eccentric demon would surely offer on it, heightening the sight, the meaning. Or maybe just his company would do all that on its own.

“Oh...Well. Um, you know. A-about some Graveldim?”

Link faded out of his daydream and Fledge’s wobbly words, scrunching his nose in confusion. “Graveldim?”

“They say, um I mean...” Fledge flinched and jerked his head to the exit. He was twisting his hands. He glanced back to Link. “Um, there’s rumours you are, manipulated and forced to work against Skyloft by some, powerful, and dangerous, demon?”

Links mouth dropped open slightly, an expression of horror crossing his face.

“That’s why they keep you here, for your own sake so you can’t do things you’ll regret once you’re freed again…”

_Oh, no... Was this what they were feeding the people? Why they ignored his arguments..?_

Fledge sagged, faltering at the lack of response from Link. “So, is it... true?”

“No!” Link protested and Fledge immediately recoiled. Link cursed at himself, releasing the bars and showing his palms in a placating gesture. “It’s not true, Fledge,” Link amended with a softer tone. “I don’t know why but,” Link hesitated. _Would Fledge be able to handle the truth?_ “ _Someone_ is spreading a lie, and Zelda is... too cautions to dismiss it. But it’s not true, Fledge. I am not manipulated or forced to do anything. Except being forced to stay here.”

Fledge was quiet on the other side of the bars, face shrouded in shadow.

“Do you believe me, Fledge?” Link exhaled, his hand sliding down the bar a bit. After a still moment, a sad smile swept over Link. “That’s right… Um, Fledge? Remember how I went down to the Surface, after Zelda? I wanted to share with you that, nowadays I’m not all that stuff anymore. I uh. Let’s just say some things, some… darker places, confined spaces, to begin with… Scare me now.”

The both of them fell silent, before Link pulled himself together enough to continue. “I haven’t told anyone else.” He gripped the bars tightly, knuckles whitening. “Comparing it to you, it’s like, when someone raises their fist a little too quickly. Or talks, a bit too loud.” Link raised a hand to the back on his head. “Sorry that I yelled.”

Fledge bit his lip and nodded. “It’s okay, I...I do know what that’s like. That’s nice of you to tell me, Link.” He flinched, anxious over his wording. “I– I mean, it’s horrible! It’s a horrible feeling but, but it’s nice to know there are others like you, right?”

Link dipped his head in simple reply. The steam from the food Fledge had brought with him wafted over to his nose and his stomach grumbled low in his belly again, protesting the lack of dinner. He swallowed when his mouth began to water. “Do you mind if I..?” Link glanced between Fledge and the tray.

Fledge looked between the hungry sight of Link and the bowl of food. “Oh! No not at all, go ahead.”

Link began on his meal still in the quiet company of Fledge. He ate fast, maybe a bit too fast. It made such a difference to his palette to actually see his food while he ate it. The gleaming stock and the rich colours of the vegetables. It was an exhilarating sensation and he chewed slowly on his last spoonful to make the moment last.

“If you’re not forced or manipulated then–,“ Fledge suddenly said and Link, startled, choked a chunk of meat. “–then it’s not right you’re held here… Is, is there anything I can do?”

Link thought for a moment, entertaining the idea of Fledge scanning the library or talking with the Geapora for more information about the riddles he’d been battling with, but no. This wasn't Fledge’s battle. He didn’t want to risk making the mess bigger than it was. It was enough that Flege had risked his way to see him at all. Although…

“I really appreciate you coming to me for the truth, Fledge. You’re a good friend.” He saw Fledge blush for some reason. It made Link a bit flustered too, were they not friends? “I would mean a lot to me if you could spread the word, talk to the people, tell them that there’s nothing to fear. I’m not brainwashed, and Ghirahim isn’t a threat. He could never harm them here, believe me.”

Fledge straightened, his expression steely around a proud smile. “Of course. You can count on me, Link!”

~~~~

Abruptly, it stopped, on the outskirts of the woods. First instinct screamed when the last glimmer faded that is was because of the measly sheikah, snatching it away, but wait no. The spells were still working–Ghirahim could feel it, the way raw magic trickled into him from the Sheikah–so why was the glimmers suddenly just… gone? He looked around, but still no further trace was anywhere. Was this... the end? Ghirahim tapped his own cheek a few times, enough for a mellow sting to register. Get a hold of yourself and _think_. Ghirahim felt a dawning thought and angled his head back to Sheik.

“So... He’s up in little _Skyloft,_ I presume.” He curled his finger, and the scar from the wound Ghirahim had inflicted in Sheiks shoulder pulsated in warning. “You can get me up there, can’t you, dear servant of the Goddess.”

Without missing a beat–surprising Ghirahim by his calm front against the large amount of not so subtle threats at this point, especially considering the _Horned Blessing_ forming a tap from the sheikah’s magic to his own, along with the many small punctuation wounds on his neck from the small daggers dancing there–Sheik reached into his pouch with a steady hand. Ghirahim grimaced when Sheik pulled out the item he sought.

It was a red and white mask Sheik held out, branding an enlarged red eye, symbol of the sheikah. Ghirahim’s lip curled and he physically leaned away from the thing. “Really, is that the best you can do?” Sheik only looked at him, holding the mask levelled for him to grab. _Guess so,_ Ghirahim thought with a frown. But he didn’t have time to argue more.

Relenting, Ghirahim’s aura faded as Sheik hid Ghirahim’s demonic signature under the cloak of the Mask of Truth. Ghirahim raised his chin at Sheik, making eye contact through the thin horizontal slit in the mask covering his face. Sheik nodded, and Ghirahim turned his back to him and stalked over to the conveniently placed bird statue just a few steps away. He turned one last time toward the sheikah, “If this turns out to be unfruitful, I suggest the biggest mercy would be for you kill yourself, before _I_ get to you.”

Sheik froze as Ghirahim called for the bird statue’s powers. The orange particles and swirls of light exploded around him, spreading and circling, calling for the gale. Ghirahim manoeuvred his cape to act as a sail, and rode the powerful blast up into the sky, leaving Sheik behind on the ground, the glowing daggers hovering around his throat disintegrating at last.

As Sheik rubbed his tender skin with salve, watching the flash of the demon disappear beyond the clouds, he hoped the Hylia incarnate would not unleash her divine punishment for this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to you all! And soon a happy new year too. 
> 
> The Horned Blessing is inspired from the Horned Statue in Hateno village in BotW and Ghirahim's ability to cast a red string between his opponent and himself in Hyrule Warriors. Thought they married well.
> 
> Welcome to all old and new readers making it this far! I certainly didn't think I would. I hope the story continues to tickle your fancies. Don't forget to share what you think, I love to read your opinions.
> 
> See you with the next chapter!


	9. The Villain: A Hero, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get together and fall.

The dim hour of twilight had settled over the sky. Whispers sang in the foggy air of Skyloft. The Plaza had almost emptied except for a few loitering couples when Ghirahim touched his white foot on the pavement. The people stilled and fell quiet, they must have noted his presence. Hm, good. They saw him for the powerful being that he could be. 

Ghirahim made a point of not minding them though, walking without hurry or malice. An uproar now when he was… not quite up to the task would be most unwanted. He touched the brim of the mask–his faith would have to be put wholly in the sheikah’s mask, and so far so good. The stillness was dispelled the further away he got, the loving murmurs of the couples beginning once again.

He ducked under low-hanging lines of pennant flags, swaying gently in the careful wind. He used the fog around him, hiding from view. The ground moved downwards as he crept along the wall. It was a challenge to hold back when he could feel himself growing nearer, every step granting him a stronger track of the golden energy from the Hero. He hid the twitch in his legs, checking himself with a bite to his cheek, wanting to sprint towards the hovering presence. But he calmed himself, taking a few heavy breaths, and steadfast continued, peering ahead through the wide slit in the mask.

~~~~

Link snapped his head up mid-cough. He massaged one of his tense temples, careful to avoid touching his surely grimy hair too much. He was at the end of the cycle before they came with a bucket of water and the most basic bathing supplies. 

But more importantly–did he imagine it–that faint chime of diamonds–did he imagine it again? He listened attentively, but after a moment of nothing Link moved to rest his forehead in his arms again, disappointed. He really should stop fooling himself. He’d been here alone for so long now, Ghirahim might have already… Link shook his head. No. He shouldn't think like that. Ghirahim is resilient, if nothing else. He wouldn’t let himself be done in so easily. Link squeezed his elbows, catching his nails at the dry skin.

He would have liked to at least relay the information he’d gotten though. It would give Ghirahim something to go on, a real clue, a real step forward. Sure, Ghirahim mentioned his heart playing a factor but at this rate–Link coughed, having to lean forward to clear his lungs. He spit out a bit of bile and slime. At this rate his heart won’t be available long enough for Ghirahim to figure out its use. The climate of this cell really wasn’t ideal for moving into less warm times. He wrapped the issued blanket he’d gotten tighter around him, reminiscing about that big red fabric, warm and soft and just faintly smelling like sunlit adventure. 

~~~~

_ He’s right– here–  _

Ghirahim held his breath with a tight swallow, tasting iron. He felt him, just beyond this door. After taking care of the guards all of Ghirahim’s very being ached to rush in, pull Link close. Feel the beat of his heart reverberate into his own mutilated core. Bury his face in the crook of his neck. Have his energy swirling in the proximity until any tremors calmed, halting any opening cracks, any swelling storms. Rocked to silence by the presence of the little hero, maybe even healing–Oh how sweet that would _be_ – 

But, Ghirahim thought with no small amount of strain. He couldn’t be careless. This was an important reunion–even if it wasn’t thier first. Hell, their entire time of knowing about the other could be collected and summarized in reunions. But this one could weigh against him if he wasn't careful, lest he jeopardize Link’s inclination to offer his help still. Who new how he would react to Ghirahim now? Maybe he wanted to stay here above the clouds. After all he is skyloftian, it’s only natural to not stray from comfort, from familiarity. From birds and fellow humans.

Despite thinking it himself, Ghirahim didn’t like the thought, digging his nails into his palms through the fabric of his gloves. He raised one of them to the door handle, laying some pressure on it. 

_ ‘Don’t touch me.’  _

Clear as day, Ghirahim had understood, even if Link hadn’t used those exact words. He had understood that Link would retract his promise before his next breath if Ghirahim were to break his, he had no doubt. And forcing a spry young Hero along on top of his own injuries just wasn’t on the map. 

To not betray Link wishes, at least not too much, that was the best course of action as it was. 

No rushing. No pushing, no pulling or prodding. Keep close enough to justify it was for energy, but keep a distance still. Professional.

Ghirahim pushed down on the handle fully, the meager mechanism locking it nothing against even his weakened magic. Slowly the pale evening illuminated the space. The hinges creaked in protest when it slowly swinged open–what an ungodly sound–but he was soon distracted by the being on the freezing stone floor, tucked far into a barred cell.  

Ghirahim stumbled over the threshold, in the movement kicking a rough pebble scattering into the dark. 

_ Link. He’s here. _

He tucked away the sudden flare of desperate craving, shoes tapping so very loudly against the stone. He said, careful to hide the tautness in his hoarse voice, as if they hadn’t been apart for the time they had. He straightened even with the low ceiling and inhaled purposefully. 

“I have arrived, sky child. Pick your sorry self up so we may leave.” 

His tone was as casual as he could manage, although he might have overcompensated–the mocking wasn’t really planned. Hand shaking he conjured a dagger, it’s glowing edges quickly tearing into the steel bars. His eyes flicked to the dirty blond head as it slowly picked up from the shadow of his lap. Haltingly so. And stiffly.

While Ghirahim continued to chip away at the steel, trying to not blow the place to bits to just get it over with, he would soon find that his restraint for Link’s sake... had partly been exerted in vain. 

~~~~

Link had barely paid it any mind when the outer door had an uncharacteristically gentle swing to it being opened. Yet, while he couldn’t quite believe it anymore, he recognized the tang of metal and the hypnotizingly bitter yet sweet scent. His eyes were still not good with daylight, but it must have been night or evening. There wasn’t much to adjust to see and when his eyes glimpsed that red and white form through the dusty air, lit from outside and the faded red that had been glowing by the bars–he would later not remember having moved. 

Yet he wanted to, and he did.

Ghirahim barely managed to register a form squeezing through the now-wider hole in the bars and moving towards him before Link flung himself at Ghirahim, knocking them both back. 

Link gripped tightly at the back of Ghirahim’s cape with trembling fingers, relishing the contact he’d been so deprived of. He took-over the tree-tall demon’s personal space entirely, accidentally shifting the center of their collective weight and they tripped, backwards and down, until Link was crowding him against the floor and wall. 

Pressed uncomfortably against a sharp rock edge, Ghirahim at first only winced behind the mask. But the pain didn’t last, not when swirling power shook him. He took a shuddering breath next to Link’s ear, shivering. The sensations sent him reeling, dizzy with the presence of Link he had to lean his head back for a moment. The relief of it. Energy swelled inside him, flooding him. It was more potent than he remembered after so long without it. How bright, how strong– He could only grip tight and breathe in the high of it. Link sobbed and his grip strengthened even more when he felt Ghirahim haltingly return the embrace.

It took several moments, before Link calmed enough of his shock, calmed enough of his breathing, calmed his soaring heart, to think far enough about what this, what Ghirahim's presence, entailed. It was difficult when the relief of seeing him overruled the dulled wiring in his brain. 

He fumbled, sliding his hands back, pushing at Ghirahim to urge to his face. _“Ghirahim,”_ he hissed, voice hoarse as he rambled, finding a mask where he expected the smooth lines of his face, _“Wha–_ What are you doing what if the knights or the kids see you, Zelda will be out for your _head–_ ” Link moved to lift away the mask, he just, he just needed to _see_ – But Ghirahim grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t remove it,” Ghirahim breathlessly voiced. “I’m sure you’ve missed my handsome features, but the mask must stay. Don’t be too disappointed, it's only while we’re on the Goddess’s _oh so holy_ land,” Ghirahim added when Link looked a bit too lost. Ghirahim breathed a laugh, pressing a hand on the fragile feel of the bones of Link’s rib cage through his thin shirt, making sure he maintained contact so that energy could continue to easily pass between them. He felt the deep pulsing echoes of Link’s heart, just inside. Each frantic thrum felt like a blessing. _He’s well, he’s unharmed._ “I’m flattered that you worry so for me, sky child. It warms to know we share interests. I would have liked it more to get some gratitude first for coming after you, but I’ll make do with...”  

Ghirahim cut himself off and seemed to war with himself, during which time Link turned very very still. The settling dust danced around them. He didn’t know what made Ghirahim go quiet but Link, Link had now regained enough awareness of his surroundings to register, to realize... The way they were leaned together. 

_ Oh, oh sweet Nayru.  _

He was sitting– _perched–_ in Ghirahim’s lap. He didn’t know where to look as he swallowed the dryness in his mouth. And– He– They were snuggled closer then even some _lovers_ would. When he’d leaped on him, Link must have unknowingly stuck his arms _between_ the red cape and Ghirahim, nestled himself in the crooks _between_ the red fabric and Ghirahim himself. They were practically cuddling. _He_ was practically cuddling the Lord.

Ramrod straight, sweating and barely breathing, fingers stiff where they still laid against Ghirahim, Link sat paralyzed. Pulled back as he was now, his hands were intimately close to the demon’s pale grey neck. His torso, which less than a moment ago had been pressed flush against the firm one before him, was still less than a professional distance away from the other, and his _legs_. In a small reaction Link flinched, but it only slid him closer. 

Link was split, astride, over the tight feel of Ghirahim's well-shaped thighs and strong hips. He was supported enough that his knees weren’t even touching the ground. The muscles under him shifted and pressed against the back of his own. He didn’t miss any movement. _By Din, he didn’t miss any movement._

Ghirahim regarded Link with a fair share of amusement at this point, especially when not having to worry about cracking in two for a moment. Although the mask hindered his sight somewhat it was fair to say that Link’s ears and cheeks and neck were nothing short of burning. He presumed one could chalk it up to the obvious fever Link had, but what really brought it all home was Link’s expression of utter horror and embarrassment–which judging by his calculations could derive of any number of reasons–unable to do much else than essentially flick his stare around and hyperventilate. 

Ghirahim hummed low in his throat, unwittingly stroking small patterns with his long fingers through Link’s clothes. This was a level of amusement that he’d certainly missed about the sky child.

Link meanwhile fumbled to gather his scattered thoughts with each registered sensation. He would have moved–to hide, duck away–before he lost any face, any form of respect or dignity he’d had with the known to be proud Demon Lord, _which he did try to do,_ but when he moved his hands and feet to push himself up from Ghirahim’s chest the foreign hands that laid carefully on his back and side strengthened, gently but firmly making him stop.

Link snapped his eyes to the chestnut coloured depths of Ghirahim’s, horrified. His vision swam with the ache of his burning forehead. _Release me._ Did he intent have him remain to taunt him? The _I told you so_ ’s rolling off his tongue. _Release me. Release me._ Or to have him captive now that he’d been weakened by... by his own kind? Possibly even weakened enough that Ghirahim didn’t feel the need to humor his wills anymore...

Link shook, searching for an answer, any answer, in Ghirahim’s expression. But he didn’t find the smirk he expected, nor was he met with any clipped remark or forceful handle, as he stared into the dark eyes before him. And even if Ghirahim’s fingers were, _moving,_ the firm hands did not stray from the calm places of his back and upper side. Link heart flickered in his chest, anxious.

Ghirahim had no idea what he was doing. Why he was so reluctant to let Link get up. It shouldn’t be a big deal. And he’d had a _plan_. A simple one. _Do not pressure the sky child._ He could certainly push the blame on the whole energy situation –his body indeed reluctant to part with that great source of healing but, he was loath to admit that it wasn’t, at the very least not wholly, that. 

Something. Something right now wanted Link to just–stay. Kept near. He didn’t want to think on why he felt this. Ghirahim made a small motion of moving Link closer–Link remained stiff, a bug caught in a spiders web. Whether it was some pathetic notion of repayment for that patient night during the storm, or worse, actual sympathy. Ghirahim huffed, puffing air on Link’s face, his jaw and white lips peeking out from the mask that sat askew on his face.

Link’s trembles had died down, but he couldn’t find the courage to wrestle himself out, not when the coughs bubbled in his chest from too much exertion made him think he would suffocate from coughing. _Release… me._

The eye-contact was grueling, but, irrationally, the acute sense of their tiniest motion being watched by the other’s keen eye scared them from breaking away. They remained frozen even as their ligaments ached for movement, the hard flooring as unkind as it was unfeeling. 

Link forced to stretch out his stiffened fingers. During the time that ticked by, Ghirahim remained as he was, and Link could feel his shoulders sag with his calming breaths, relaxing when he began to trust that nothing would happen… Probably. Just a bit. Maybe the relief of being free lowered his guard, and fever had taken the opportunity sneak in and affect his judgement, but nonetheless...This–wasn’t so bad.

Link’s nerves calmed. He even almost got to enjoying the faint warmth radiating from Ghirahim through his clothes. So long, _so_ long, had he been without anyone, and then Ghirahim of all, shows up all… all like he usually was. A lot of bark, a lot of flair. Blunt and strangely familiar. Link felt his face twist with emotion–he wasn’t _alone_ anymore–and he had just shifted his eyes from Ghirahim’s left to his right… When his ears pricked at a rustle behind the door. 

He was alert at once, and the shell of the moment was broken. 

Ghirahim had heard it too, and jerked himself from the daze–the guards, they wouldn’t be incapacitated for much longer. Ghirahim rose up, bringing Link to stand with him, never relinquishing his touch. 

“Come now, let’s not dilly dally in this pigsty any longer.” 

Link didn’t need to be told twice, and while he didn’t reply his tense silver lined eyes said enough.

Ghirahim turned his head toward the exit and moved them forward, finding with each step just how taxing the life Link must have led during their split-off. He was thin under his hand, wobbly on his steps. And he twitched at small scares. Nervous. Anxious. Ghirahim had no trouble detecting his state, the data was practically rolling off of him.

Ghirahim walked outside while clutching Link tight. The burning light of the sunset was a radiant slip along the horizon, the deep blue of night almost overtaking the sky. He snapped his eyes down hearing Link take deep gulps of air, with swallowed coughs in-between. He saw Link bloom into a teary smile at the breathtaking view.

Yet even now something worked behind those bright blues, Ghirahim saw. There was a certain distance to them which became all the clearer.

“What’s keeping you? Don’t you _want_ to leave?” Ghirahim almost growled when Link didn’t move further, eyes narrowed and a little panic seeped into him. Why did it feel like Link was considering something that felt _wrong?_ “Are you forgetting what you promised?” 

Link kept up his mournful silence, so Ghirahim turned to stand in front of him, hiding the beautiful view, and stepped closer. Pebbles and grass scraped under their feet when Link stepped back to match Ghirahim’s advance. He was soon crowded against the uneven cliff-wall, one of Ghirahim’s hands ever on his torso and the other firmly planted on the wall next to his head, brushing by his pointed ear. Ghirahim’s shadow stretched over Link and Link shivered at the sight of the burning colors of the fading sunset against Ghirahim’s silhouette. 

“ _Have you?_ ” Ghirahim demanded.

Link tilted his head back and sought Ghirahim’s eyes through the slit in the mask. He blinked the haze from his eyes, mind feeling like cotton. It was a strange mask, with that large red eye on it… Link swayed a bit.

“No,” he slowly said, voice thin and fragile. Like it could disappear at any moment. “I haven’t.” He placed his hand on the center of Ghirahim’s chest, with their difference in height it was almost chin level. “I will help you. This isn’t about that. There’s lies spreading on Skyloft, and if I leave, and with you at that, then the lies might become considered as truth. And-” Link lungs rattled as he coughed. He leaned a bit more of his weight on his hand resting against Ghirahim. “And that would be… That would be terrible.” 

With what Fledge said, leaving now would only confirm the people's false suspicions. It would be difficult to regain their trust, and to ever return here, with Zelda and the soldiers spreading their twisted form of ‘truth’. His childhood home, but more importantly, his friends–his mind flashed an image of Pipit and he shifted his jaw. He didn’t want that turned against him. He’d been prepared to walk out, or at least he’d thought he’d been… He didn’t necessarily want to stay, but did he want to spread lies? To solidify the rumors?

_ Oh, Farore _ . Link’s throat tightened with the weight of the situation, of the dead ends, and he choked on whatever words next he would have spoken.

Ghirahim studied Link’s heavy eyelids, his red face and laboured breathing and unsteady feet. The corners of his lips dipped in a frown. He stepped away to the side, moving Link to lean against him that way. It did help him too–to be connected physically, energy flowing more smoothly–but giving some personal space to a sickling, that was something he as a gentleman should offer. He looked up at the sun dipping below the horizon. There was no reason to be uncivil, and to the unhealthy to boot, when there was no further cause calling for it.

Link twitched his burning brow up at the offered space. Huh. Short-lived anger… He didn’t mind, but the number of times Ghirahim had in a positive light surprised him was steadily growing, and not a moment too early. He’d felt dizzy from the lack of space. The open air and the steady hand on him, they helped him keep a clearer mind. He closed his eyes and let the weight of his head fall against Ghirahim. Ghirahim’s melodic and well-controlled voice, rumbling in Link ear when he spoke, felt soothing on his eardrums.

“ _Who,_ then, is spreading these lies you seem to fear more than a fight?” Ghirahim spoke, voice a bit muffled from the mask. If he had to solve Link’s concern to get him on his own track then fine. It was fine. Just fine. He’d gone this far why not just go the extra twenty hellish miles.

“..My friend, he didn’t exactly tell me who, but that all the soldiers talk of it. So–”

“So logically, it’d be that wanna-be _goddess’s_ fault _.”_ Ghirahim sneered at the thought. His hand steeled on Link. “I assume it was also her that took you. _Argh,_ by hell’s bells and a bucket of reeking goblin blood. That’s _it_ ,” Ghirahim flung his free arm to his side, slamming into the rock wall behind them causing cracks to spread through it. Link didn’t even flinch, which was quite amazing, but his senses were probably already overloaded as it was. 

The eye of the mask itself almost narrowed in Ghirahim's rage. “We’re going to the dainty little goddess _right now_ to settle this. I want to leave already, get some peace and quiet, and take this god-awful mask off.”

_ ~~~~ _

Light chuckles echoed like bells through the hall. Impa listened attentively with a soft quirk to her smile as Zelda told her a story. 

“And see yesterday, at tea time, you wouldn’t believe–” 

A deep chuckle answered, cutting through the mirthful air. 

Zelda’s words cut short, knowing it wasn’t Impa’s, and Impa abruptly turned away from Zelda’s widened eyes. Impa readied the ceremonial spear in her hands as a masked being stepped out from behind a white pillar. 

“That– Identify yourself! _Where_ did you get that!?”

The masked creature chuckled behind tastefully lifted hand. 

“How nostalgic.” They sighed. “My presence really is such a remarkable thing, isn’t it. And this?” They gestured to the mask covering their face. “I got this from one of _your_ kind, sheikah.” Impa jerked back. “It’s a distasteful mask, but isn’t the knowledge–that you, the ones closest to the Goddess, let a demon lord such as myself up into your hiding spot... Isn’t that just, delicious?” They gestured with their arms, almost in the fashion of a conductor.

Impa’s face distorted in seething rage. “ _Ghirahim–”_

Hylia reached out an arm to the side of her throne, holding Impa back from rushing at the demon. “State your case, demon. Or be obliterated.”

Ghirahim’s brow twitched. “Demon _Lord,_ if I may. And I think you would very much enjoy what I have to say. You see, our sweet baby bird has some issue with how you do things around here. As do I.” 

“I can talk for myself, Ghirahim.” 

Ghirahim huffed at the hoarse words coming from behind him while Zelda twiched to attention.

Ghirahim turned his head back. “I know you can. Will you quietly let someone assist _you_ for a change, hm?” No answer. To Ghirahim’s dismay Link stepped out from behind the pillar, but crossed his arms stiffly over his chest and leaned heavily against the white stone. Letting Ghirahim have his will, but on his own terms. Ghirahim sighed shortly through his nose.

“Link,” Hylia breathed, gripping the arms of her throne. Although Link had gotten sickly pale, and couldn’t look worse for wear without adding battle wounds, Impa spread her stance and readied a pair of daggers instead. Suited to fight.

Ghirahim turned back to the main event. “Now that I have your attention, would you care to enlighten a Lord about your motivations for manipulating your people and servants, and to this extent? The lies and the faked concern you exude like some wicked perfume…” 

Ghirahim waved his hand in front of the mask where his nose would be, as if waving some foul smell away. “It’s repulsive. Look at them!” Ghirahim gestured grandly to the nervously murmuring court in the keep. “Look at him,” he said as his arm made its way back to Link. 

Ghirahim made his way forward as he spoke. 

“You so very young and foolish Grace, your chosen Hero is barely the man who went after you in the first place. I cannot fathom, how you could treat him like some common cattle. And what I _learn_ ,” Ghirahim dramatically swooped a hand to his forehead, still covered by the Mask of Truth, “What I learn, first hand, of your side of the tale… Lady, I’d say you’re no better than the demons that you always slander so very generously. If not worse, for claiming you’re still good. At least we’re upfront with our ways.”

Hylia seemed inclined to interrupt, but something in her made her hold her tongue. Ghirahim noticed Zelda flicking her eyes to Link, as if _he_ would sweep in and stop the demon who’d once abducted her, even after all Link had had to endure. Link wasn’t incredibly moved by her pleading eyes though, but if it was because of his fever drugged mind or not Ghirahim wouldn’t know. 

“If it had been solely up to me the sky child and I would have been long gone by now,” Ghirahim turned and reached out and stroked the side of Link cheek, fingers flicking at his too-long bangs, speaking with his head tilted. No question that his body language was meant to seem gentle towards him. “But I tire of the wrinkles you cause in his face, so for his peace of mind I’ve come to discuss the matter.”

Hylia shifted in her stark-white chair, dripping in holy light shining in from the ceiling. It was all very reminiscent of the Temple of Hylia. Just grander, more imposing. Her words were few. “What matter?”

Ghirahim curled a lip. “Spare the theatrics would you. What else but your spread of unfortunate misinformation. It’s quite unsightly.” 

Hylia lifted her chin. “I have spread no such thing. I have, rightly, informed the people of your return, and Link’s instability because of it,” she camly retorted. “I see no fault in this.”

Ghirahim didn’t miss a beat in the flow of words and tact. “Then I am here to inform you that your words have been spun into a different tale. A tale of murderous rogue demons and heroes turned to be used against those they would initially protect.” Ghirahim meaningfully looked Zelda in the eye. She seemed unsure, fingers twitching wanting to fidget but her status not allowing her.

Impa, who’d been brimming since their arrival, turned to her. “My Goddess, darling, don’t let him fool you. He’s trying to make you doubt yourself. He has _no such right_. Please,” she stroked along Hylia's arm in chaste affection with the back of her bandaged fingers, “Let me deal with them.” 

Zelda angled her head toward her. A light nod and Impa lit up with delight, a fierce focus casting shadows over her face and nodded once before straightening up and letting the cold mask of a soldier wash over her. 

Impa motioned signs to her soldiers. A quadron moved at Link and Ghirahim, and Link walked forward to Ghirahim, stumbling into his side when catching a spell of dizziness the last step. Ghirahim steadied him without losing eye-contact with Zelda. 

“I see. How progressive. Well then, sky child, it appears she listens less than a deaf person.” Ghirahim turned and threw a look at Link. He frowned at his wane complexion and expression. A strong grip encircled Link’s waist, hoisting him up and carried him under his arm as he went. Link struggled feebly, he probably didn’t appreciate being carried like a stray remlit caught unawares. Well, he could blame his precious girl for letting him fall ill if he had complaints. “We’re leaving.” 

“Adieu, your little Grace. I’ll be taking your hero back to where he belongs.” Ghirahim said, offering a shallow bow in the midst of the growing tension, unoccupied hand at his chest, at which Impa bristled. 

“Remember though,” a thoughtful inclination of his head, and Ghirahim continued in a rumbly voice even as the soldiers seemed to gain courage. “If catch even a _whiff_ of misinformation about Link or me–and believe me when I say I will–you’ll _beg_ for the ritual I performed on you instead of the fate I would grant you and your kind after that.” 

Link snapped his head towards Ghirahim at that, as much as his predicament of hanging under Ghirahim’s arm would allow, but he didn’t manage to speak before Zelda retorted.

Hylia rose, with her chin high, and spoke loudly over the roar of soldiers feet moving. “You say ‘back to where he belongs’. And where would that be, at... at _your_ side, you vile creature? Preferably in chains? With a blade to his skin, fangs to his neck?” Impa waved at the hesitant soldiers who were almost there–many had never seen real battle, seen a real demon, before–to just pounce as Zelda spoke.

Ghirahim, back turned to leave, stopped. He spoke over his shoulder. “Oh, your grace, how blind your holiness has made you as to not be able to realize you are describing where he is when he is with you.” 

“He _belongs_ here.”

“He belongs wherever he decides to. Somewhere the lies and sickness of his former companions can’t reach him,” Ghirahim spat. “At the wild plains and fierce landscapes? So be it. At the dilapidated castle he found for himself? By. All. Means.” Link finally stopped his last protests against Ghirahim's hold around him when a arrow imbedded itself in the stone next to his head. Ghirahim side-stepped to avoid new ones flying through the air.

“Get him!” Impa finally roared, but it was too late. The soldiers launched themself over Ghirahim and Link, but fell through a sparse collection of diamonds and orange toned light, the snap and the metallic chirp of teleportation hidden in the loud noise of armor. They ended up in a comical pile on the royal floor, though the humour fell short on the two leaders. 

Zelda and Impa moved their gaze to lock into the other’s, and by the glint in their eyes they seemed to communicate the same thought.

~~~~

Ghirahim landed with an _ompf_ as they reappeared on the plaza, tucked away in the shadow of the tower there. Link recovered from the teleportation first this time despite, or maybe thanks to, his fever. He grabbed ahold of Ghirahim’s hand, tugging at him. “Come,” Link swallowed his teary voice and rushed towards the edge of the wooden outcropping with Ghirahim in tow. The roar of the army coming after them boomed louder and louder. Link forced his cough-roughed voice to carry. “Hurry,” his voice barely pushed the word out, vocal chords hurt and inflamed.

“Oh you can’t be _serious–_ ” Ghirahim began to protest but Link already jumped out into the sky, whistling for his loftwing, still gripping Ghirahim’s hand. They fell into the cloud dotted sky. It was pink in the hours of dawn suddenly, almost as if nature itself was silently, gently, cheering them on by granting light for his loftwing to see in.

“Link!”

Link turned his head mid-air at his voice being called. It was Pipit. He had jumped after them and was diving fast through the air with arms tight to his sides.

“Don’t do this! You’ll only make it harder for yourself! For everyone!” Pipit stern voice shouted over the wind.

Link and Ghirahim landed of the red heap of feathers with an _Oof._ Link’s head whipped back around for his face to smack into the neck of the bird. The loftwing losing height fast at the not only double weight of two people, but also because of Ghirahim being a large man. A large sword. Sword spirit, if that was still true. But it worked in their advantage, the trailing squad that had dived after them didn’t stand a chance to match their descent. Link couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted too. 

Within moments they reached the thicker clouds, preparing to dive through. But Link’s loftwing balked at a large amount of clouds, and the magic that remained from the cloud barrier, and jeered. The both of them yelped, gripping tightly on whatever they could, Link into the feathers of the bird, and Ghirahim onto Link. Ghirahim held fast, but the weight was too much for Link’s exhausted body and sweaty grip. 

His hands slipped. Link’s could see it happen in slow-motion, each thread of burning red feather gliding across his fingers, caressing in farewell, in apology, while he was helpless but to watch. His stomach dropped and Ghirahim and Link fell from the saddle of the bird, and toward the Surface, a panicked _Caw!_ reverberating above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohf. Why are my chapters getting longer? And Before We Both Lose hit 1000 hits since the last chapter, that's kinda cool for someone in the beginning of their Ao3 lifetime. Thank you
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the new chapter! I will go traveling next week so it might become iffy with the updates. I'll try to write when I can, I really want to finish through on the story.
> 
> Have a nice time =)


End file.
